BARRY'S WAREHOUSE : NIGHT
The warehouse smelled like oil, sweat, and blood. It stood at the edge of the docks, far from the city noise. Cold air rushed in through the broken windows, but no one dared to complain.
Barry stepped inside, his boots echoing across the concrete floor. He didn’t rush. He never did. His black coat brushed his legs with each step, and his eyes were cold, sharp, and unreadable.
Two of his men followed close behind, keeping silent. Everyone knew better than to speak unless Barry asked a question.
Three men knelt in the middle of the room. Their hands were tied behind their backs. One of them was bleeding from his lip. Another had a black eye. The third kept shaking like a leaf.
A fourth man, one of Barry’s trusted enforcers, stood nearby, wiping blood off his kn
