(Priest)
The warehouse had become my church.
Not because I believed in God anymore. Men like me stopped believing in second chances a long time ago. This place had given me something far more useful than faith. It had given me control.
I walked across the concrete floor while my men unloaded another shipment from the truck that had arrived an hour earlier. Wooden crates disappeared through the back doors one after another. Nobody spoke unless they needed to. That was exactly how I wanted it.
One of the guards walked over.
"The delivery's complete."
I looked toward the stack of crates.
"Any problems?"
He shook his head.
"None."
"Good."
He nodded once before returning to work.
I stayed where I was and watched the last few crates disappear into storage. Every shipment brought me o
