The car ride was silent, but tension clung to the air like a storm about to break.
Luciano sat beside Sienna in the backseat of the blacked-out SUV, his hand resting on his thigh, close enough to hers to feel the heat, but not quite touching.
The Serpent drove, humming to himself like a man with no fear of death.
They passed empty roads, dim streetlights flickering like dying fireflies, until the city thinned out into a stretch of industrial wasteland—concrete skeletons of buildings long abandoned, their windows broken, their secrets buried in dust and rust.
The warehouse loomed ahead like a mausoleum.
“This is it,” the Serpent muttered. “Coordinates match. No signs of movement, but that doesn’t mean it’s empty.”
Luciano reached beneath his jacket, pulled out a sleek handgun, and ch
