C. Prologue “Drink?” With the moon at its peak, illuminating the darkest of nights, a calming chill saturated the air. The Dawson brothers stood on a balcony of the umpteenth high-rise they’d been at that month. The view before them so picturesque in description, that both men were momentarily paralyzed at the sight. Straight ahead the vast sky, inked black – made the perfect canvas – contrastingly brightening the luminescent glow of the bustling city many, many stories below. Jordan placed a crystal whiskey glass weighed down by three ice cubes, filled three quarters of the way, in front of his brother. Not bothering to wait for an answer to his rhetorical question, Jordan knew Reid would never decline one of his favorite vices. Lifting the drink to his plump lips, Reid threw a
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