Chapter 160

Gray POV

“War, what the fuck did you do?” I demand.

The second I step into the shipping container, the stench of weed, sweat, and blood slams into me. The walls are splattered with it—thick streaks of red staining the cold steel like a fucking horror movie.

I come to an abrupt stop just inside the door, my gaze flickering down to the slick pool of blood drying on the floor.

Fucking great.

I don’t mind blood. I’ve spilled plenty of it. But I don’t fucking like walking in it if I don’t have to.

I shift my stance, carefully stepping around the mess, planting my boots on the driest patches of steel I can find. The last thing I need is to track Isaac’s blood all over the damn place.

Meanwhile, War sits slouched in a metal chair, one leg kicked over the other, taking a slow drag from a joint. His steel-grey eyes flicker to mine, unreadable.

“Wasn’t me,” he mutters, exhaling a lazy cloud of smoke. “Blame Logan’s psycho ass.”

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