Roughly five minutes after Liam's departure, the chaos he left behind still lingered in the air. The street outside the Crimson Hand's base was swarming with people—residents, passersby, even shopkeepers—all frozen in shock. Most stood with their mouths covered, horrified gasps escaping their lips as they gazed at the carnage before them.
Bodies littered the ground, limbs twisted unnaturally, blood trailing in thick streams across the cracked pavement. Bullet holes riddled some corpse. To the crowd, it looked like a war zone had erupted in the middle of the city.
A sleek, black car rolled up to the perimeter with a ghostly silence, its engine barely making a sound. It moved with the precision of a hearse arriving for its final pickup. The car stopped a few feet from the chaos, and then—click.
The rear door opened.
