Sylas’ POV

I frowned as I drove my car into the factory. The warehouse and its surroundings smelled like rust, smoke, and blood.

It was a scent I did not like, but it was also a scent I respected. Because it meant nobody here was pretending to be civilized. We all knew who we were, and that meant no one was going to be wearing a mask. Not even me.

I stepped out of the black SUV and began to adjust the cuffs of my dark coat as I watched my men stepped out of my other cars and began to spread around me in complete silence.

The abandoned shipping...