Chapter 198 COD
Liam pushed open the large double doors and stepped into the factory. The sound hit him immediately—a loud, relentless blend of machinery grinding, metal clanging, and bottles clinking as they moved along an automated line. The noise was deafening, explaining why none of the men outside had heard the brutal fight that had just taken place. Nor did they hear the doors open.
The space was massive, industrial lights hung from the ceiling, flickering now and then. The whole place reeked of chemicals and fermented alcohol. It didn’t take long for Liam to piece it together. This place was a drink factory. But something felt off. The sheer number of workers, the silence on their faces despite the noise, the uniformity in their movements—none of it sat right with him. He crouched behind a stack of wooden crates, adjusting the black scarf covering the lower half of his face. Tight. Secure.
His body was still aching, the toll from the fight outside evident. But his regeneration had already kicked in. The deep bruises on his ribs were fading, the cuts on his arms sealing themselves slowly. Each breath became easier than the last.
He scanned the factory floor. Dozens of men worked like machines, moving crates, checking labels, packing bottles. But despite the chaos, Liam’s eyes picked out one person he never thought he’d find in such a position.
Jack.
There he was, the cocky bastard, lugging a crate across the floor, his back drenched in sweat. Liam blinked. He expected Jack to be somewhere safe, under heavy surveillance. Not here. Not laboring like some factory drone. What the hell was going on?
He narrowed his eyes, watching Jack carry the crate into a far corner of the factory, disappearing behind a wall of barrels stacked two stories high. Liam moved.
With one leap, he landed on the catwalks above, using the thin metal beams to silently move across the factory ceiling. Below him, the workers never looked up. Their attention was locked into their tasks like they were hypnotized or trained to never break focus. Liam dropped down behind the barrels with a soft thud, just in time to see Jack setting the crate down and wiping sweat from his face.
"Hey," Liam said, tapping Jack on the shoulder.
Jack turned slowly.
His face went pale. He looked into the eyes of a man with a scarf hiding the lower half of his face and menace burning behind his gaze.