~ Quinn ~
The warehouse still smells like gasoline.
Smoke curls through the broken windows, drifting across the river like a ghost that refuses to leave.
I stand in the middle of the charred concrete floor while firefighters drag the last hose back to their truck.
Kevin walks toward me through the mess of blackened crates.
“Total loss,” he says.
I already know that.
The flames did their job.
Metal shelves are twisted into ugly shapes. Half the ceiling collapsed. Whatever Malik wanted destroyed is gone.
Kevin kicks a burned piece of wood aside.
“He wanted to send a message.”
“He did.”
Kevin glances toward the brick wall near the loading dock.
White spray paint cuts across the dark soot.
Six words.
I’M COMING FOR YOUR NEW TOY
My jaw tightens.
Kevin studies my reaction carefu
