The heavy, iron door of the administrative shack groaned on its hinges as I flicked my cigarette butt into the gravel of the yard. I watched it smolder for a second among the tire tracks before plastering a wide, confident grin on my face. This was the headquarters of Longroad Logistics, and while the exterior was nothing more than a weathered corrugated metal container—typical for the gritty, no-nonsense industrial sector—this was now my domain. I wasn't just some guy off the street anymore; I was the man in charge, even if the "executive suite" looked like it could be hauled away by a crane at a moment's notice.
As I approached the entrance, the air was thick with the smell of diesel and stale tobacco. Inside, I could see Lucas Park through the grime-streaked glass. He was hunched over
