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He had said them in anger, never imagining Allison would actually leave. He had wanted to hurt her, to make her understand how furious he was. He had never expected those words to become the last thing he said to her.

Now, with every passing second, regret ate away at him. What if she had taken him seriously? What if she had decided never to return because he had told her to stay away?

His throat tightened, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

The thought broke something inside him.

His knees weakened, and he slowly sank to the ground beside his car. His head hung low, his hands resting limply between his knees as he struggled to keep himself together.

~ 10 years later ~

Silas stood beside a black Range Rover Sentinel, a cigarette between his fingers as he watched his men load large crates of guns and ammunition into shipping containers. The shipment was scheduled for delivery to several locations, and with the night growing late, everyone was working against the clock to get it done.

Since the cargo was particularly sensitive, his men had arranged for the transport vehicles to be tracked throughout the journey to ensure the weapons reached their destinations safely. Silas remained outside, smoking in silence, when one of his men hurried toward him and stopped in front of him, slightly breathless.

“Mr. Black, we've already dispatched a large portion of the shipment to the designated locations. The transport vehicles are being tracked throughout the journey to ensure a safe delivery.”

Silas took a slow drag of his cigarette, waiting for him to continue.

“This is our second shipment in three days,” the man added, his expression tense. “I'm concerned about the buyer’s frequency. We don't know where all these weapons are ultimately going.”

Silas exhaled a cloud of smoke, his expression cold.

“Inform the police,” he said flatly. “Hand over the information we have.”

The man stared at him, worry immediately tightening his features.

“Mr. Black, I'm worried about you. If these people have ties to the East Coast crime families, they could come after us. And if they manage to get to you, this entire situation could backfire.”

Silas turned his head and regarded him with a dismissive look.

“If I worried about being attacked every time something could go wrong, I wouldn't be standing where I am today.”

The man fell silent, realizing he had been worrying about the wrong person.

Silas Black stood well over six feet tall, his imposing frame and unshakable confidence making him a man to be feared. The men around him knew exactly who they worked for, and none of them doubted his ability to handle a threat.

Silas owned the largest firearms company in the world. His reach extended far beyond legitimate business, deep into the underground arms trade, where even the most powerful criminals thought twice before crossing him.

He had once taken on one of the largest mafia empires in existence and brought it to its knees. The organization had been dismantled, and those connected to it had fallen alongside it. What made the victory even more remarkable was how effortlessly Silas had managed to accomplish it.

His strength lay not only in his wealth and power but also in his connections. He had influential people on his side, people who knew better than to underestimate him or risk becoming his enemy. Even those who operated in the darkest corners of the underworld understood that offending Silas could cost them everything.

The man standing before him seemed to remember that now. He straightened immediately and lowered his head.

“Understood, Mr. Black.”

Silas watched in silence as his men finished loading the containers inside the massive warehouse. Once the last crate had been secured, he turned away from the activity and lit another cigarette, taking a slow drag as he surveyed the operation.

He had barely exhaled when Frank jogged toward him.

Frank was his personal assistant, the man responsible for overseeing his schedule, managing his business affairs, and ensuring everything ran smoothly. Although his shirt collar was open and the top buttons were undone, he carried himself with the professionalism expected of someone who worked directly for Silas Black.

At first glance, he didn't look like someone who belonged in a world filled with guns, ammunition, and dangerous men. But the sharpness in his eyes betrayed a man who understood exactly how ruthless that world could be.

Frank stopped in front of him, his expression unusually tense.

“Mr. Black, I just received some news about Ms. Herrera.”