Andre's POV
The warehouse loomed ahead as I pulled into the gravel lot, my knuckles bone-white from gripping the steering wheel. Every muscle in my body coiled tight during that drive, fury building like pressure in a steam pipe ready to blow. The moment I stepped through the rusted metal doors, the familiar cocktail of blood, fear, and suffering hit my nostrils. But tonight, it smelled like justice.
Caesar and Curtis stood like twin pillars of vengeance over our captives. The bastards hung suspended from thick rope, their wrists bound and stretched overhead to an iron ring embedded deep in the concrete support beam. Their shirts hung in tatters, already stained crimson from the preliminary beating they'd received.
Caesar wielded a worn leather whip with practiced ease, while Curtis had selected a rusted metal pipe from the debris scattered across the warehouse floor. Both men turned when they heard my footsteps echo through the cavernous space.
