FRAGILE

Chapter 8: Neutralizing Threats

Maximus stepped out of the car as his driver held the door open, the cold, biting New York air filling his lungs. His eyes swept over the warehouse in front of him, an unassuming structure that betrayed nothing of the horrors hidden inside. But Maximus knew. The building was the heart of a slave auction—a disgusting business being run on his land, right under his nose. It was a violation he couldn't and wouldn't tolerate.

Every inch of him bristled with rage, though his expression remained calm, a mask of icy composure. His informants had been clear: the slaves sold here were broken in different locations, trained in secret buildings across the country before being funneled into this auction house. The slaves were transported here like livestock, prepped for sale to the highest bidder. The fact that this was happening in his territory, with rogue wolves aiding the operation, enraged him.

There would be no mercy for these people.

But that was a problem for another day. Right now, his focus was on the immediate situation—dealing with the auction and its participants. Once he shut this place down, he would hunt down the other buildings. He would burn their entire network to the ground.

His footsteps were steady, precise, as he made his way toward the entrance, his tranquilizer gun ready in his hand. The guard at the front—a massive, leather-clad brute—barely had time to register Maximus's approach before the tranquilizer dart embedded itself in his neck. The man's eyes widened for a brief second, his hand twitching toward his weapon, but then his body slumped forward, collapsing in a heap on the ground.

Maximus sighed, already irritated by the triviality of the encounter. This man was nothing more than a simple-minded brute, not worth the time it would take to question him. Maximus waved his men forward, and they moved in silently, carrying the unconscious guard away to a waiting car. They had their orders—to clear the building, but to remain invisible until the right moment. Everything needed to happen quickly and without unnecessary resistance.

The warehouse smelled of sweat, fear, and something foul—like the stench of desperation had soaked into the very walls. As Maximus entered, the scent hit him, making his wolf stir with disgust. There was something vile about this place, something wrong in the air. It wasn't just the filth or the sounds of suffering that leaked through the walls. It was the audacity of those who operated here, wolves and humans alike, as if they had no fear of consequence.

Maximus made his way down the dimly lit hallway toward the staging area where the auction was taking place. The concrete walls were bare, cold, and lifeless, but the screams and sobs that echoed from behind closed doors told a different story. His jaw tightened, the rage simmering beneath his cool facade as he passed door after door, knowing what lay on the other side.

When he reached the main staging room, he paused, assessing the situation. Two men—both wolves, by the scent of them—stood guard at a door marked PRIVATE. These weren't ordinary wolves either; they were rogues, a fact that only deepened his anger. Their very presence here was an insult to his rule. They were trespassing on his land, facilitating a trade in slaves—his land, his rules, and they would pay for it.

Maximus masked his scent, slipping into the shadows, waiting for the right moment. The two guards were distracted, speaking to a third man who appeared to be arguing for entry. It was an easy enough distraction. Maximus moved past them, slipping through the door without a sound. Incompetence. It seemed no matter where he looked, these slavers couldn't even manage basic security. He smirked to himself, feeling the familiar satisfaction of knowing these rogues wouldn't even realize their mistake until it was far too late.

The hallway beyond the door was lined with rooms, and the sounds grew louder—pleading voices, soft cries, the unmistakable sounds of fear. Every door he passed seemed to house more suffering, and the fire in his chest grew hotter with every step. His wolf paced beneath his skin, a low growl vibrating in his throat. Control. He had to keep control. For now.

At the end of the hall, he reached a door labeled The Office. Without hesitation, he kicked it open, the sound reverberating through the room as the door slammed against the wall. The rogue behind the desk jumped to his feet with a yelp, his eyes wide with shock. But Maximus's gaze was immediately drawn to the boy on the floor in front of the rogue—kneeling, shaking, his lips wrapped around the man's member.

The boy's reaction was immediate—he flinched at the sound of the door crashing open, his body trembling as he bit down reflexively. The rogue howled in pain, shoving the boy away as he cursed and clutched his injured groin. Maximus bit back a laugh, though the amusement was fleeting. The sight before him was revolting.

He raised the tranquilizer gun again and fired. The dart struck the rogue in the neck, and he crumpled to the floor like the others. Maximus's gaze shifted to the boy, who was now staring at him with wide, tear-filled eyes, his small body quaking with fear. The boy looked fragile, barely more than a child—another victim of this twisted operation. But Maximus had no time to tend to him now. He raised the gun once more and shot the boy with a tranquilizer as well, watching as the boy's body slumped to the floor.

With the immediate threat neutralized, Maximus turned his attention to the office. His hands moved swiftly through the drawers of the desk, searching for anything useful—documents, phone records, anything that could lead him to the other slavers. His fingers grazed across a small microphone attached to the intercom system, along with an old flip phone. He picked it up, flipped it open, and pressed the intercom button.

A loud beep echoed through the warehouse, the sound signaling that it was time to take control.

"Good evening," Maximus said, his voice smooth but cold. "My name is Maximus Stone, and you are all trespassing on my territory."

He paused, listening to the distant screams and shouts as his men moved in. The panic was immediate, and Maximus could hear the chaos spreading through the auction floor as the patrons realized they were surrounded.

"I assume by now my men have you surrounded and are ready to strike. I will give you one chance to save yourselves. If you provide me with information about the other business heads, you will be questioned and then released. If you have no useful information, you will be tranquilized and held until I deem fit to release you."

The tension in the air was palpable. More screams followed, along with a few gunshots as the crowd descended into panic.

"And lastly," Maximus continued, his voice hardening, "if you resist or attempt to deceive me, you will be taken down immediately. The slaves will be transported to the vans outside. My men will handle the rest."

Satisfied, he shut the phone and strode back into the hallway. The silence in the corridor was eerie now—no more screams, no more cries. His men had done their job well. The auction was over.