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There are portions of the roof that are old and rusted, made of metal, while there have been updates to other areas on the roof.
Off to the side of the building you can spot construction materials, so the renovations must be something that are actively happening.
As we grow closer, there are box trucks with a paper company name and logo on the side of them.
Alejandro must have a paper printing company as one of the businesses he launders money through.
As we grow closer, the intense feeling of what we’re about to walk into hits me like a ton of bricks.
My skin prickles like a looming thunderstorm.
Unease settles deep in my gut and I suck in a deep breath to steady myself.
The warehouse is far too quiet. There should be activity, noise—something, anything.
Instead, it’s deadly silent.
We should hear Alejandro’s men fighting off the intruders, which only makes me believe his men are worse for wear.
They’re either horribly wounded, or dead.
A gust of wind hits us as we’re getting closer to the warehouse, causing dust to fly up in front of us.
I shoot a glance at Razor. His face is stone-hard, focused.
It’s clear he senses it too—the calm before the storm.
I glance over to Amara, who makes a subtle hand motion and we fan out, taking positions around the entrance like wolves circling a den.
My bike rumbles between my thighs, and I’m ready for whatever’s about to hit us.
As we dismount, the sun is starting to dip on the horizon, casting an eerie glow on the deserted landscape.
My heart pounds fiercely now, each beat a war drum reverberating in my ears.
I draw my weapon slowly, ready for whatever’s going to happen.
I take point, leading the way toward the warehouse’s entrance.
The door is the only layer between us and whatever hell lies past it.
Inhaling deeply, I know we don’t have time to waste.
We’ve already seen how horrible this looks from the outside.
Bodies are scattered around the property, and I’m going to guarantee those were the ones who tried to get away.
The metal is cold against my palm as I push it open, revealing the dimly lit interior.
A smell hits me first: a sickly-sweet mix of blood and chemicals.
My stomach churns but I push forward.
There’s no turning back now.
This places a fucking mess.
Bodies thrown around like rag dolls, discarded and forgotten in the midst of the chaos.
