With Giggs at the helm, we smoothly navigated the traffic caused by the impromptu rainfall and, after 20 minutes, left midtown Detroit.
We spent another 20 minutes on the road, driving through the city, and finally, Giggs brought the car to a stop.
"We're here."
"Here?" I mumbled in disbelief, my eyes scanning the clean, bustling street outside. There were ice cream and taco trucks, several well-dressed people walking around, and, most importantly, the skyscrapers surrounding us.
This wasn't at all what I'd imagined.
My idea of the place where Grace would be held was completely different.
I expected the outskirts of town, a rundown area, maybe a former industrial site, or even a slum.
"Where is this?"
"Downtown Detroit, sir."
"Which building?"
"Quintell Abulak," Giggs said, pointing to the right.
"How many floors?" I asked, eyeing the blue structure with white pillars at its front, rising high into the sky.
"Forty floors.
