Since the villa owner parked his car at the roadside, no trucks have passed through the neighborhood. The long, blaring horn that had kept Ryoma and the others awake the first night is finally gone.
Douglas and Destin, Alvarez's makeshift night guards, take their posts on the veranda, keeping watch silently, alert for any other disturbance that might arise. And yet, tonight is no easier.
The problem has shifted. It's no longer the sounds of traffic or the imagined clatter of trucks. It's the body itself, its rhythm disrupted. The exhaustion from the long travel and the prior night's sleep lost now works against them. A long nap during the day has pushed their circadian clocks into disarray.
Nearing midnight, the rooms remain dimly lit, occupants restless, tossing or staring at ceilings. The villa is quiet, yet sleep eludes them. The very timing of their own biology keeps them awake.
