ANASTASIA’S POV

The scent of gunpowder hung heavy in the warehouse air. Rows of armed mercenaries were arranged neatly, waiting for final inspection before being shipped.

“These ones are new,” the supervisor beside me said, gesturing toward three men at the far end. “Fresh out of the northern base. Quiet but efficient. No complaints so far.”

I studied them in silence for a moment, then gave a small nod. “Good. Make sure they’re briefed again on engagement protocols. No freelancing.”

“Understood.”

“What are those crates over there?” I asked as I scrunched up my brows.

“Erm… they—”

“Erm erm erm, I don’t fucking pay you to tell me erm,” I...