Zane exhaled as he turned off the ignition of the car, his eyes fixed on the club thumping with activity a few feet away from where he had just parked his car.
The particular club which Spider had pointed out as belonging, or rather frequented by men who ran business corporations, who were respected in the corridors of economic power, but also tagged shady by rumor mongers and whispered speculation.
Zane thought there was nothing special about the club, at least at first glance. The exterior bore the tranquility peculiar to nightlife establishments, that false calm that masked the chaos inside.
The brick walls were painted a deep charcoal black, polished just enough to gleam under the glow of neon. Multi-colored lights flickered across the signage plastered on the wall—electric purples, reds, blues, and pulsating pinks that blinked in rhythmic loops, like a heartbeat synced to music only insiders could hear.
