Victor Ashford didn't move.Rain soaked the shoulders of his charcoal coat as he stood in the middle of the factory yard, one hand holding a white envelope, his eyes fixed on the security camera mounted above the warehouse entrance.Behind him, the second convoy rolled through the broken factory gates.Eight armored vehicles.No company logos.No license plates.Black windows concealed the occupants inside.The engines idled like growling beasts waiting for a command.Inside the safehouse, no one spoke.Damian stood before the monitor, his jaw locked so tightly that a muscle twitched beneath his cheek.
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