Greg Jensen yawned, seemingly uncaring as he lazily ascended the stairs.
Halfway up, he suddenly froze, his expression turning solemn in an instant.
The reason was the silence above, so quiet that not even the sound of breathing could be heard.
There were supposed to be two people guarding each staircase landing, but even if they were asleep, it shouldn't have been so quiet.
Something was wrong!
Greg's heart tightened, and he ran swiftly upstairs.
Emerging from the stairwell, indeed, he did not find the two young men who were supposed to be on guard.
Just then, a commotion came from up ahead.
Greg ran over and saw that Bobby Prince and Bryce Cooke, along with a few of their men, were all lying on the ground.
Standing beside them was a middle-aged man with a broad frame and thick bones, his square face marked by a scar.
He emanated a fierce and ruthless aura.
"Mr. Jensen, I'm glad you could make it."
"Mr. Jensen, be careful, that's Master Simmons, and he plays dirty."