Chapter 93

Drake nodded, understanding that their journey ahead would demand difficult choices and actions. He had stepped into a realm that was far removed from his life as a lawyer, a realm where the boundaries of right and wrong were blurred.

The warehouse was like an underground museum of danger, a place where weapons of all shapes and sizes rested like dormant beasts waiting to be awakened. Drake’s heart pounded as he walked alongside Simon, his eyes wide with a mix of fascination and apprehension. Rows upon rows of guns lined the walls, each one meticulously positioned as if they were pieces of a grand puzzle.

“Behold our arsenal,” Simon’s voice echoed through the dimly lit space, a hint of pride lacing his words.

Drake’s gaze fixated on the guns—pistols with sleek barrels, rifles with scopes that seemed to peer into the distance, and shotguns with their sturdy frames. The cold metal against his skin sent shivers down his spine. He reached out to touch the polished surf