Damon stood amidst the wreckage of his Midtown safe house, the smoke curling in the air like the remnants of a nightmare. The ground beneath his feet was stained with blood—his men’s blood. The bodies of Adrian’s mercenaries lay sprawled across the asphalt, a testament to the brutality of the ambush.
But this wasn’t just an attack.
It was a declaration of war.
Alina felt the tension in Damon’s body as she stood beside him. His fists were clenched, his shoulders rigid. The weight of the betrayal, the destruction, and the loss settled on him like an iron shroud.
Marco, still gripping his bleeding arm, stood before him, awaiting orders.
"We need to move fast," Marco said, his voice strained but firm. "Adrian took the shipment. We have a window before he offloads it, but it won’
