Cyril, sensing something might be amiss at the hotel, didn't stand in the center of the lobby as he had before, treating the place as if he owned it. Instead, he sat on a sofa in the hotel's resting area, the spacious and brightly-lit French windows behind him had been shattered earlier, and the cool night breeze poured in, fluttering the heavy curtains.
Seated on the sofa, Cyril was extremely vigilant, intentionally breaking the French windows so that if anything unusual happened, he could leave immediately without having to go around to the hotel's main entrance.
The injured Noah was brought down from the fifth floor to the first, passing through the dark lobby and standing in front of Cyril.
He wanted to stand, but Cyril's subordinates pressed him to kneel. Noah, wounded in the thigh by a bullet, resisted angrily; he was a soldier, and even now, as a captive, a soldier's pride did not allow him to kneel to a notorious drug trafficker.
