“Get your coat, Clara.”

I stood on shaky legs, grabbing my damp jacket from the back of the chair.

Vincent did not use the front door of the lounge where the rain-slicked streets lay empty.

Instead, he guided me toward a heavy steel door marked *Private* at the back of the building.

He pushed it open, and the cold, wet air of the alley hit my face.

Rain poured down from the black sky, splashing hard against the brick walls.

A massive, armored black SUV was waiting in the shadows of the alley, its engine idling with a low, rumbling growl.

The exhaust pipe blew white steam into the wet air.

A tall man in a dark trench coat stood by the passenger door, holding a wide black umbrella.

He opened the door the moment he saw Vincent approach.

“Get in,” Vincent said, guiding me into the back seat before sliding in beside me.

The door closed, sealing out the sound of the rain and the city.

The interior smelled of expensive leather, tobacco, and clean wood polish.

We pulled out of the alley, the tires splashing through deep puddles.