The two groups of luxury cars, about fifteen or twenty each, were arriving at the agreed area on the outskirts of the city and on the grounds of an abandoned industrial complex. They stopped at a safe distance from each other, face to face, and after a few seconds their occupants began to descend. From the first car of the group that had arrived from the south a tall, blond man, elegantly dressed and around fifty-five years old, got out of the rear seat, who buttoned his suit as he stood in front of his vehicle. On the other side of the car, another blond man got out, about sixty-five years old, who, unlike the first, was not in a suit, but was dressed casually. He stood next to the first in front of the vehicle. “I still have a bad feeling,” said the older man, named Christopher. “Are you sure about this, Darius?” “Zander assured me he wants peace too, brother,” Darius replied. “We won’t have a better time than this.” “I think you are risking too much. You shouldn't have brought yo
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