LUCIAN’S POV
“Careful with that crate.”
My voice cut through the underground loading bay.
No one slowed. They wouldn’t dare—not while I was personally inspecting them.
More than fifty men moved as one. Black suits. Silent coordination. Every motion sharper—backs straight, hands steady, eyes alert.
To anyone watching, it would look like a routine shipment. Corporate. Ordinary.
But it wasn’t.
Beneath the fabric lay steel, bullets… and maybe death.
This wasn’t delivery.
It was preparation for blood.
I stood above them on the concrete steps, arms folded, watching rifles vanish into crates that would be sealed and sent into rogue territory before nightfall, for whatever bloody purpose they had in mind.
I didn’t really care.
My job was simple: provide the right weapons to the right
