Daisy remained professional, but her face was pale, and her grip on her gun was white-knuckled, clearly affected by the sudden violence.
I turned to Daisy. "Check them thoroughly. Look for IDs, phones, earpieces, tattoos—anything that might tell us who sent them."
Daisy nodded and moved quickly, kneeling beside each corpse. She searched pockets, flipped collars, checked wrists and necks, and even removed their gloves.
Nothing. No identification, no communication devices, no personal items. Just sterile tactical gear and high-end weapons. These were professional cleaners—ghosts.
Madeline's reaction intensified as she watched Daisy work. She let out another muffled scream, burying her face in her knees. Her body trembled so hard I could hear her teeth chattering. The shock was hitting her in waves; she looked on the verge of fainting or vomiting from the gruesome scene.
