Kingsley drove through the quiet streets alone. It was past midnight, and the road was long and quiet. He made a decision and followed the route on the map Riley Drake had sent. It led to a large, abandoned warehouse near the old train yard, far from town.
His chest was tight the whole drive. He didn't trust Riley, but he had no choice. Jasmine, Nicole, and his baby—his family—were in danger. He couldn't risk their lives by bringing backup. At least not yet.
He parked the car just outside the gate. He got out, his boots crunching over dry gravel. He walked to the large metal doors and stopped when two men stepped out of the shadows. Both had guns. One had a scar across his face.
"Name?" one of them asked.
"Kingsley Elm," he replied, his voice flat and calm.
The two looked at each other. "He's clear," the man with the scar said.
They opened the warehouse door slowly. Kingsley stepped inside. The place smelled like rust and dust. His eyes moved quickly, scanning the space.
