POV: Darius
The Wolfe warehouse looked ordinary from the outside. A massive, steel-sided building on the edge of the docks, surrounded by chain-link fencing and guarded by men who didn’t smile. Anyone passing by would think it was just a storage facility for the construction materials used in our hotels — marble slabs, imported woods, steel beams stacked high.
But deep inside, past the freight elevators and locked corridors, there was another section. No cameras. No windows. Just thick concrete walls and a single metal door that opened to the part of the warehouse only a handful of people knew about.
Down here, the air was different — damp, heavy, smelling faintly of rust and old blood. It was silent, except for the faint drip of water somewhere in the corner… and the sound of a man scr
