Outskirts of Vespera City.
Far from the glittering nightlife and loud streets, the industrial zone stood silent under a pale sky. Massive structures stretched across the land, surrounded by high fences and armed security towers.
At the center of it all stood the Mordecai Arms and Ammunition Manufacturing Facility.
A fortress disguised as industry.
A convoy rolled through the gates.
Black vehicles.
Armed escorts.
And from the lead car stepped out Jax Mordecai.
Dressed sharply.
Composed.
Dangerous.
Men with weapons followed behind him, scanning every corner as he walked forward without slowing down.
His phone was pressed against his ear.
The line connected.
A voice answered with a hint of amusement.
"What a surprise. Who called me today… Jax Mordecai himself."
Jax smirked faintly.
"Victor Wraithebourne… getting old already?"
Victor's voice carried calm confidence.
"What is wrong with retiring? The Wraithebourne Group is growing well under my daughter."
