"When Charles left the house, his mood was not the best, and the weather hovering over Paris that evening did not help the feeling that permeated through the SUV filled with members of his clan.
The rain drummed against the tinted windows, drawing irregular rivulets that slid like tears down the face of a weary city. Paris - lively and bustling during the day - was now wrapped in a gray, shimmering shroud and seemed to be holding its breath under the heavy blanket of low-hanging clouds. The smell of asphalt permeated the passenger compartment through the windows, which the driver had rolled down.
He sat in the back seat, his expression blank and impassive as he once again checked his gun with the expertise of someone who had done it thousands of times before - a move that had become second nature to him. He pulled out the magazine, made sure it was fully loaded, and slid it back in with a sharp click before slipping the gun back into the holster under his coat.
He glanced around at the other members and noticed that they were doing the same. They all knew what was at stake tonight, and everyone was looking for little ways to keep themselves occupied, to do anything to steady their nerves."
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