The sound of waves crashing against the shore did little to calm my racing thoughts. I sat under a shaded cabana at a secluded beach in London, trying to enjoy the moment, but my mind kept drifting back to the events of the past few days. The police visit, the interrogation, the tension—it was all too fresh.
Jethro, who had been my right-hand man for years, sensed my unease. He was lounging next to me, sipping on a drink, but I could tell he was on high alert as always. We never truly let our guard down, not even in moments like these. He looked over at me, his eyes questioning, but I just shook my head. There was no need for words. He knew what I was thinking.