Healing in the Highlands Two days passed.Tips kept coming in. Photos. Notes. Phone calls. Always the same voice: calm, distant, never revealing who they were. But everything they sent checked out. Marcus was moving, but not fast enough.Carlo barely slept. He lived in the war room, surrounded by maps and men ready to die for him.Finally, one night, a call came.The caller spoke quietly. “He’s in a warehouse near the train yard. He’ll be there for another hour at most. After that, he’s gone again.”Carlo didn’t even reply. He ended the call, grabbed his jacket, and turned to his men.“Let’s go.”Kristen watched him from the top of the stairs. “Be careful,” she whispered.He nodded once. “I always am.”The warehouse was dark, cold, filled with shadows. Carlo’s men moved like ghosts, surrounding the building, cutting off every exit.Carlo moved in first.He stepped inside, eyes scanning the darkness. He saw the faint glow of a cigarette, and then Marcus stepped out of the shadows, han
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