The air in front of the Linfield Biotechnology Co., Ltd. headquarters crystallized into a suffocating vacuum as Dominic Mylod’s declaration cut through the cruel laughter of the enforcers. Mark, the scarred titan of the streets, blinked in genuine confusion, his grip tightening instinctively on Carvel’s collar. In this district, the hierarchy was written in blood and reinforced by fear; no one—least of all a man looking like a common civilian—had ever dared to address the Tiger’s primary enforcer with such chilling lethality.
The elderly protesters, already retreating toward the safety of the brick alleyways, cast pitying glances at Dominic. A few kind-hearted women whispered prayers, convinced they were about to witness a murder.
"Did you hear that, boys?" Mark roared, his voice thick w
