"We have to go!" Boris roared again, his heavy boots slamming against the floorboards as he tore a tactical vest from the open weapon crate. His face was a mask of sheer panic, the thick veins in his neck bulging under the strain of his mounting terror. His scarred hands trembled violently as he checked the magazine of his sidearm, the metal clicking loudly in the quiet space. "Did you not hear me, Gillian?! The mercenaries are dead! Our entire frontline vanguard was just turned to ash in less than five minutes! If Asher traced that mirrored link, he is already on his way to this warehouse. We have twelve personal bodyguards left. We are sitting ducks!"
I didn't move from my leather chair.
