The warehouse district in the southern part of the city had always been one of the Rodrigos' most important territories. The long rows of concrete buildings stood like silent giants under the pale glow of industrial lights, their shadows stretching across the empty loading yards and rusted shipping containers. On most nights the place was quiet except for the occasional rumble of trucks moving through the docks.
Tonight it was anything but quiet.
Gunfire cracked through the air like thunder.
A Rodrigo convoy screeched into the yard, tires burning against asphalt as the black vehicles skidded to a halt near the central warehouse. The moment the engines died, the doors flew open and armed men poured out, weapons already raised.
Raphael stepped out first.
The night air smelled like smoke.
His eyes swept across the yard and immediately found the bodies.
Three of his men lay sprawled near the loading dock, unmoving.
The metal door of the warehouse hung open, its lock blown apart.
