MALCOLM'S EAST COAST WAREHOUSE
As Malcolm and Benjamin got closer, they realized it wasn’t just random law enforcement officers. Some of the men were in military uniforms, their insignias gleaming under the afternoon sun.
Benjamin narrowed his eyes and leaned toward Malcolm. “Since when did the military start inspecting warehouses?” he whispered tightly.
Malcolm’s jaw tightened, his eyes darting over the scene. Soldiers moved with sharp efficiency, setting up barricades, barking orders to each other. This wasn’t just a routine inspection...it was an operation.
“I don’t know,” Malcolm muttered under his breath. “But something’s not right.”
Before either of them could think too long, Malcolm spotted the officer in uniform giving instructions. He stood tall, rifle slung across his chest
