Tristan put some cash on the table.
"A shot of whiskey, please."
Whiskey usually wasn't Tristan's drink of choice, but he didn't want to stay at the bar for a long while, drinking some big cocktail. Just a shot for the road.
While the barman took the money and poured Tristan his drink, he mused about his plans.
'Rafael has contacts with people deeper in Cuatro Angulos. I can use him to send them the Beholder…'
A shot glass of whiskey was placed in front of Tristan. He nodded in thanks to the barman, then raised the glass and downed the whiskey in one go.
As soon as the burning liquid touched Tristan's tongue, he knew something was wrong.
Terribly wrong!
The whiskey tasted way too bitter to be normal. Perhaps that taste could've belonged to the worst kind of whiskey, but not to something being sold in a high-end nightclub like the Urban Mirage!
'It must be poison!'
