Jason Sanson poured himself a steaming cup of coffee and nestled comfortably in the armchair of his living room. He gazed out the window at the concrete jungle of buildings and roads and let out a long sigh, instantly regretting the movement—it reminded him that his jaw was still healing.
He looked down at the coffee cup on the tray beside him and decided against drinking anything hot for the time being.
"Damn this old age," he muttered to himself. "It's preventing me from healing faster. And after all this time, no one has found out who those people were!"
Jason Sanson had already spent two weeks locked inside his apartment, partially recovering from the attack by an unknown gang at his main office, and partially hiding, afraid that those people might come after him again.
