Cloudy skies became less cloudy, leaving a clear blue filament above. The sun exuded a calming warmth, casting bright glows downward.
Its light shone upon a massive gray warehouse, and unlike before, there was a more pristine feel to the architecture ahead, well-maintained. The machines and woodwork scattered around heightened this fresh feeling.
"This is the place. You sure?" Alistair said while gazing forward in bewilderment.
"Yes… yes, it is," Amilia's voice chimed in, trembling. Her face morphed with shock because she had also expected worse.
Antonio could never be this nice to his enemies without some ulterior goal. That man's heart was incapable of sympathy.
"Antonio is playing a deeper game than I thought," Alistair uttered, legs grazing the border. "He's trying to mask something."
Amilia's face creased and wrinkled, morphing into a frown. "But what could it be?"
"It definitely involves money and drugs: anything that can profit."
