A man in a suit with a build like a tiger's back and bear's waist sat on the sofa in the foyer, tossing aside Sleery's cellphone, as the number nicknamed 'boyfriend' kept calling incessantly, becoming a nuisance in hand.
His companions were having fun in a small room, with women's moans and the sound of vomiting continuously coming from the bedroom. The blonde suited man walked out, trying to find clues from the cellphone.
"It's fucking useless. We were following her on Raffi Road this morning, and she made quite a few calls to her dad, but clearly, he doesn't want to answer," the muscular suited man said.
"He won't foolishly answer the calls. He knows the syndicate can trace his number…" said the blonde suited man with his arms crossed and a frown on his face.
"Maybe he's got a refuge, his own network that can protect him?" the muscular suited man guessed.
