Marshal sat in his hospital bed, rubbing his hands together as he listened to Scott's full report.
A few days ago, he could barely hear any of it without feeling as though he might faint. But now, he had no choice but to face the truth.
Five of their main distribution centers had been burned to the ground.
Soon after, two of their primary bases were destroyed overnight. One had been reduced to ashes along with the soldiers stationed there, while the other had been seized by the authorities.
In only a few nights, Marshal's main source of income had been crippled.
Now, everyone in the underground was celebrating his downfall.
He had already reached out to their allies, but only a few had answered his calls. Some had picked up merely to mock him and say that he would be missed.
Normally, Marshal would have sent someone to deal with every one of them. For now, however, finding the person—or people—targeting him had to remain his priority.
