The message hadn't contained a name. It never did. Just a time, a location, and a line that didn't ask for confirmation. It assumed he would show up. Dominic had read it once, then again — not because he didn't understand it, but because he wanted to be sure of what he already knew. The tone hadn't changed in five years. Neither had the intent behind it.
The hotel wasn't one he would have chosen. It sat between districts, not high-profile, not run-down — the kind of place where people made temporary decisions and left without anyone remembering them. The lobby smelled like polished wood and something artificial underneath it. No one looked up when he walked in.
He didn't stop at the front desk. He walked past it like someone who already knew where he was going, eyes moving across the lobby out of habit. The elevator came right away. He stepped in, pressed the button, and let the doors close.
The ride was short. Long enough to think, not long enough to turn back.
