Silent Scars

CHAPTER 89

LEONARDO HASTINGS

The office door clicked shut behind me with a soft finality.

No guards inside. Just silence. Clean, sterile air.

Exactly how I liked it.

I tossed my coat on the back of the leather chair, walked around the desk, and sat down. Within seconds, I was flipping open the first folder, slipping on my glasses, and uncapping the pen.

Signature. Initial. Second page. Repeat.

The phone on the corner buzzed before I even reached the third document.

"Warehouse four."

Davide’s voice came through, crisp and precise.

"We’ve cleared the containers. Shipments from Naples and Marseilles are accounted for. No foreign tags. Two crates were opened, but nothing’s missing."

"Good."

I said, scanning a list of serial numbers on the document in front of me.

"What about the men?"

"Clean. The new recruits passed the internal checks. Rami flagged one, bit too friendly with Volkov’s runners, but he’s being handled."

Handled.

I knew what that meant.

"Keep me posted."

I said, and hung up.

No pause.

The next call came in.

A captain from the port, issue with a delay in customs. I barked orders, authorized a discreet push through back channels, and moved on.

Then Davide again. This time about the shipping logs that didn't match last week's manifest.

It went on like that. Call after call. Signature after signature. Shipments, cargo routes, new men. Coordination with the Rome safehouses.

I didn’t even stop for coffee.

Didn’t even look at the damn time.

Until the door suddenly pushed open.

I didn’t look up. Didn't have to.

"Already here?"

I asked, eyes still fixed on the paper.

A pause.

Then Marcus’s voice, with just the right mix of sarcasm and disbelief.

"It’s twelve, Leo."

My pen stilled.

I looked up.

And, yeah. It was twelve.

I leaned back slightly, removing my glasses and rubbing the bridge of my nose.

"Time’s a luxury."

I muttered.

Marcus didn’t sit. He just stood there, arms crossed, something unreadable in his expression.

"I got a call on the way."

His voice was casual, but the weight beneath it wasn’t.

I didn’t glance up again. Just said, "Hmmph." as I slid another document toward myself and signed without looking.

Marcus didn’t continue immediately.

That meant whatever the call was, it wasn’t routine.

I finally raised my eyes and met his.