The atmosphere inside the Hell Hounds' base changed the moment Brack spoke.
"Alright, everyone. Drop what you're doing. You heard the lady, we got things to talk about"
His voice echoed through the old concrete walls, deep and commanding. The faint sound of hip-hop stopped mid beat. The clinking of metal tools, and the soft hum of chatter all faded into silence.
One by one, the people in the room turned their attention toward the pool table in the middle. Sofia stood quietly, adjusting the scarf on her head as her eyes darted between the unfamiliar faces gathering around her. There were four of them, aside from Brack.
The first was a broad shouldered man with a shaved head and a tattoo that crawled down his neck—Tank. His expression didn't change once; he just folded his arms and leaned on a nearby crate, watching her in silence.
