The industrial hum of Longroad Logistics usually felt like a shield, a wall of mechanical noise that allowed men like Lucas Park to hide their dirty secrets in plain sight. But today, the atmosphere in the main office was different. It was sterile, heavy, and fraught with the kind of tension that precedes a total structural collapse.
I sat behind the desk, watching Lucas lean against the doorframe. He still wore that mask of bloated arrogance, the look of a man who believed he was untouchable because he had spent six years weaving himself into the fabric of the company. He truly thought he was a partner in all but name, a pillar of the establishment who had been "done dirty" by the current ownership.
"You know, kid," Lucas said, his voice dripping with a condescending, gravelly drawl, "I
