Damian's gaze dropped to the scarred wood of the table, fingers curling tight.He was a blunt man, a soldier who hated lies. But the truth he carried was one he could never explain.
To say "someone told me" felt like a lie.To say "I saw it" felt worse.
Caught between the two, he forced the words out—rough, halting."I heard a rumor."
He paused, the words dragging out."But… it's not the place that kills."
His voice grew steadier, heavier with each breath."It's what's in it. Things buried there… not meant to be seen."
By the end, his tone left no room for doubt."If the stash is real, if anyone confirms it—no one who's seen it has ever come back."
The table went still. The air froze.
Marcus's smile vanished, his shoulders stiffening. The warmth in his eyes was gone, replaced by a calculating heaviness. Years of commissions had honed his instincts, and they screamed caution now.
"Wait a damn second!" Caleb burst out, freckles stark against his flushed skin. His thin frame jolted upright, voice cracking with anger and fear. "That's insane! So what—you're saying we go in, and we're already dead?!"
Ethan slammed his mug down, beer splashing over his knuckles. His buzz-cut head tilted forward, jaw clenched tight. The reckless fire in his eyes flickered—uneasy for the first time."Figures! No wonder the deal looked too sweet—it's cannon fodder. But hell, are you even sure this rumor's real?"
Damian's hands tightened. Sweat dampened his knuckles, but his voice stayed firm."Believe me. What they're after is really there. And if we go in…" His tone hardened. "…none of us will walk out alive."
The reaction was explosive. Caleb jabbed a finger across the table, voice trembling with fury."So we're dead men either way?! That's what you're saying?!"
Marcus's jaw worked, his voice low and grim."We've already signed the contract. We can't just walk away. The deal looked too good, so the terms are strict. Break it now, we pay back triple the fee."
Caleb swore under his breath. "Triple? That's robbery! So what then—we march in, die like idiots, and call it fair?!"
Silence crashed down again, the weight of his words pressing on them all.
Finally, Noah spoke. His face unreadable, black hair falling into shadow as he adjusted his old gloves. His calm voice cut through the tension like a blade."Maybe we don't have to play it their way."
He looked at each of them in turn, steady and deliberate.
"And remember—we still have one day."
Every eye turned toward him.