We didn't linger long.
Staying low, we doubled back through the winding alleys, circling carefully toward a better vantage. Each turn pulled us deeper into the district's silence—no sign of life, just the creak of rusted signs and the whisper of wind against crumbling stone.
Eventually, we ducked beneath a collapsed archway across the narrow lane, settling behind a tangle of rubble and old crates. From there, we had a clear view of the warehouse entrance.
The warehouse still buzzed with movement. From where we hunkered, we could see the thug leader pacing near the doors, a rolled paper in hand as he barked orders to his men.
Though darkness had already settled over this forgotten corner of the city, the occasional lantern-glow from the warehouse spilled through the boarded windows, casting broken silhouettes across the cracked stone road. Moonlight caught the edges of the lane, glinting faintly across the stones.
