The warehouse was cold and silent, its vast expanse lit by flickering overhead lights that cast harsh shadows across the concrete floor. The smell of dampness and rust hung in the air, but it was the anticipation, the thick tension, that made the atmosphere suffocating. Remo Quinn stood in the center of the room, his hands tucked into the pockets of his tailored suit. His face was a mask of cold indifference, but beneath the surface, a storm raged.
He had spent the last few hours preparing this moment in his mind, knowing that once Margaret and Dominic arrived, there would be no mercy. They had plotted to take away everything he held dear—his wife, his empire, his life. And for that, they would pay.
Tony stood beside him, silent but alert, his eyes fixed on the entrance. They had been waiting for over an hour since Dominic's confirmation of the meeting. The stage was set. The trap had been laid.
