By the time the roar of Max's private security and the wail of police sirens tore through the corrugated metal gates of the Fish Tank… it was already over. Or at least. That's what it looked like. The place stood like a hollowed-out palace, it was massive and silent. It was empty in all the wrong ways. The high-ranking Syndicate members were gone; they had vanished.
Ghosts slipping through tunnels carved beneath concrete, escaping into the black waters on waiting speedboats, leaving behind nothing but the wreckage of what they'd built.
"Damn it!" one of Max's men shouted as they stormed in. "They cleared out!" Max didn't react.
His eyes were already moving. Calculating. Hunting for what they couldn't take with them.
"Fan out," he ordered, his voice sharp, controlled. "Check every corner. Every room. I want eyes on everything." The steel doors groaned as they were forced open fully and what lay beyond made even the most hardened officers hesitate.
