No amusement left.
Only calculation.
Then suddenly—
Gunfire erupts outside again.
Different direction this time.
Louder.
Closer.
One of the militia fighters shouts frantically in Arabic from outside the loading dock.
The commander turns sharply toward the noise.
And for the first time since he arrived—
He looks surprised.
Russ immediately grabs his radio.
“Movement north side,” Lucas says urgently through comms. “Unknown armed group entering the district.”
The commander’s expression darkens instantly.
“That’s impossible.”
Which means whoever just arrived—
He wasn’t expecting them.
18
Clay
Chaos detonates outside the warehouse again.
Not scattered militia fire this time.
Organized.
Controlled bursts.
Multiple entry points.
Coordinated movement.
Professional.
The commander turns sharply toward the loading dock entrance while men outside begin shouting over each other in Arabic.
Panic.
Real panic.
Interesting.
