Sienna
The rain started slowly, then grew louder until it tapped insistently against the windshield. I killed the engine and sat in the dark for a long minute, staring at the flickering streetlight across the alley. The building in front of me looked abandoned from the outside, but I knew better.
Places like this never really looked like anything from the outside. That was the point. They hid in plain sight, covered in peeling paint and broken windows, while people with dirty money and clean hands moved in and out without ever drawing attention. The alley smelled of wet concrete and something metallic, like old rain on rusted pipes, and every gust of wind carried the faint sound of distant traffic that felt miles away. I checked my rearview mirror twice before stepping out, the damp air clinging to my jacket like a second skin.
I knocked once. Pause. Then twice in quick succession.
