The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the dimly lit living room of the Velez household. The room was impeccably clean, the furniture arranged with an almost clinical precision that betrayed none of the chaotic lives led by its occupants. Damien Velez lounged on the large leather sofa, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp as he glanced occasionally toward the window. Damien, the eldest and most imposing of the three brothers, wore his usual attire: a black t-shirt that emphasized his well-defined muscles and loose jeans that framed his tall, commanding figure. His dark eyes were a stark contrast to his pale skin, and the silver necklace with a ring hanging from it glinted in the sunlight. He leaned forward, his thin smile a hint of the danger that lurked beneath his calm demeanor. Logan Velez sat in an armchair across from Damien, his dark hair falling over his eyes as he sipped from a glass of whiskey. He was dressed in a dark, tailored shirt and slim-fit trousers, his black leather gloves resting casually on the armrests. Despite his easygoing appearance, his calculating gaze revealed an awareness that stretched beyond the confines of the room. Elijah Velez, the youngest and most volatile of the brothers, paced restlessly near the entrance. His loose shirt and jeans were a stark contrast to the more formal attire of his siblings. His dark hair, bleached in the middle, framed his menacing eyes as he ran his fingers over the tattoo on the back of his right palm. His movements were erratic, a reflection of his impatience and eagerness for the chaos he thrived on. ''Shouldn’t be long now,'' Damien said, breaking the silence. His voice was smooth, but there was an edge to it, a reminder of the power he wielded. Logan took another sip of his drink, his eyes flickering up from the glass. ''You’d think the kid would come home on time once in a while.'' Elijah’s gaze darted toward the door, his impatience palpable. ''Why’s it always gotta be us waiting around? Can’t we just go and get ‘em?''