The distant rumble of engines cut through the quiet night as two blacked-out cars came rolling in, taking up both ends of the alley. Then, gradually, one by one, the doors opened, and over thirty men stepped out, their movement a smooth machine. Their faces were unreadable, but their intent was clear. Each of them carried knives, glinting in the streetlights.
Kai cocked his head to one side, watching their stance, their movement, their positioning.
They were not amateurs.
The scar-faced leader stepped forward. "You're a hard man to catch up with, Kai," he said, twirling a blade in his hand. "We expected you to have some enjoyment with your little time in the slammer, but I guess you were lucky."
Kai said nothing.
The man sneered. "Word is, you've been getting a little too close to things you shouldn't. Our bosses don't like that. They want you to slow down."
