The sound of roaring engines filled the night air as a convoy of black SUVs screeched into the parking lot. Car doors slammed with military precision, and the click of approaching footsteps echoed against the asphalt like a countdown to execution.
"Finally," Noah breathed, his relief palpable. "Now you'll understand what real power looks like."
I remained perfectly still, watching as two imposing figures emerged from the lead vehicles. Even in the dim parking lot lighting, their presence commanded immediate attention.
The first man was built like a fortress. Marcus Grant stood at least six and a half feet tall, with shoulders that seemed to span half the width of his SUV. His graying hair was pulled back in a traditional topknot, and his eyes burned with the intensity of someone accustomed to absolute authority. Every step he took seemed to make the ground tremble slightly.
