Victor sat alone inside the small, abandoned warehouse room after everything that happened. The place smelled like old metal, dust, and smoke. A single dim bulb hung above him, shaking slightly each time the wind pushed through the cracked windows. The light flickered every few seconds, making shadows jump across the broken walls. Victor sat on a wooden crate with his elbows on his knees, his head down, and his hands shaking even though he tried to hide it.
The door banged open so hard that the sound echoed through the entire building.
Rico and Marcos walked in.
Both men looked furious. Their faces were tight, their movements sharp, and their eyes carried the kind of anger that came from being lied to and used. They didn't speak at first. They simply paced back and forth in front of Victor, breathing heavily, trying to calm themselves before one of them did something stupid.
