The Black Market HQ loomed before Seth like a den of shadows, its exterior deceptively quiet. From the outside, it looked like nothing more than an abandoned factory—rusted steel beams, cracked windows, graffiti-drenched walls. But Seth knew better. Beneath the veneer of ruin, it pulsed with life. Dangerous life.
The three stooges, trembling as if they had dragged the devil himself here, stood a safe distance behind him. None dared step closer, afraid that even breathing too loudly might make him turn on them.
Seth raised his hand lazily, dismissing them. “Scram. You’ve done your job.”
They didn’t need to be told twice. They bolted into the night like rats returning to their holes.
Seth’s crimson eyes narrowed as he placed his palm against the cold steel door. Hellfire flickered in his
