The rain over the San Francisco docks didn't just fall; it blindsided the city, turning the concrete into a slick, black mirror. Inside the burning warehouse, the air was thick with the chemical stench of the exploded burner phone and the bitter smell of charred wood. The final word from the faceless enemy rang through my ears: "I am on my way to pay a personal regards to Chloe".
I didn't wait for the smoke to clear. My fingers dug into the fabric of Marcus's wet vest, pulling my second-in-command so close our foreheads almost touched over the roar of the fire.
"Listen to me carefully," I snarled, my voice cutting through the panic of my surviving guards. "Boris didn't just detonate this place to play games with us. He did it to get permanently rid of us away from the villa. So that he can carry out his final strike."
