Liam and Dickson finally reached the far end of the warehouse, weaving between stacks of identical crates. The silence had grown heavier. The place didn't feel right. Too quiet. Too… staged.
Dickson spotted something on the ground and bent to pick it up — a rusty metal rod. "Might as well make myself useful," he muttered as he walked toward the nearest crate. With a grunt, he jammed the rod into the side and pried it open.
Wool. Again.
Thick, white bundles of processed wool, stacked to the top just like all the others.
Dickson made a face. "You've got to be kidding me."
Liam's eyes narrowed as he looked around. "This can't be it…"
It didn't make sense. All this setup. For fabric?
Liam stepped away from Dickson and pulled out the comm from his jacket pocket. He clipped it to his ear and tapped it twice.
Five seconds later, Vanessa's voice rang in.
"What's wrong?"
