Alaric parked the car outside an abandoned building on the far outskirts of the city. The area was desolate, the kind of place where silence weighed heavy and time seemed forgotten. Cracked pavement stretched into overgrown fields, and rusted lampposts leaned as if tired of standing. The building loomed ahead—a hulking structure with shattered windows and graffiti marking its walls.
James stepped out of the car into the glorious morning sun, stretching with a dramatic sigh. His hand swept through his disheveled hair as he caught a glimpse of himself in the car's windshield.
"Well, look at me," he said, turning his head slightly to admire his reflection. "We, the pretty sunlight slaves. I swear, if it weren't for the charms, my beauty would be charcoal by now."
Alaric shot him an unimpressed look as he slammed his own door shut. "We've got a lot on our hands, James. You can kiss your ass later." His tone was sharp, his focus locked on the building before them.
