The abandoned steel mill was a cathedral of rust, a sprawling graveyard of industrial ambition that sat exactly on the border where the jurisdiction of Monterio ended and Oakhaven began. The air was thick with the scent of wet iron and chemical decay. Inside the main smelting hall, the moon struggled to pierce through the jagged holes in the corrugated roof, casting long, skeletal shadows across the floor.
Dante stepped into the center of the hall. He was alone, his hands empty, his dark coat damp from the lingering mist. Opposite him stood Valerius, the shadow financier of the Oakhaven Cartel. Dressed in a pristine white suit that looked like a fluorescent wound against the grime, Valerius stood behind a folding table that held a single laptop and a bottle of expensive mineral water.
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