Jermin did whatever he deemed necessary to protect and benefit himself. Compassion and forgiveness were luxuries he neither afforded nor expected. As he walked out of the dark room, his shadow guards followed silently, their faces betraying the fear they harbored. They had witnessed their boss's methods firsthand—cold, calculated, and lethal. No one dared cross him. Those who did never lived to see another day.
"What were they thinking?" one of the guards silently wondered. Betrayal? Against him? A foolish and final mistake. Today would be the last time anyone saw Liam.
Thirty minutes later, Jermin arrived at the location Liam had divulged—an old, abandoned factory on the outskirts of the city. The area was desolate, with broken windows and rusted metal, the perfect hiding place for a traitor. Jermin moved swiftly, each step measured, exuding a presence both majestic and deadly. His shadow guards followed closely, their eyes scanning every corner for threats.