The two men struggled in the dark, their breathing heavy and strained.

I grabbed the flashlight and shone it directly into the intruder’s eyes.

He winced, shielding his face with a thick, calloused hand.

He was wearing a dark security uniform with a private logistics logo on the shoulder.

“Let him go,” I said, keeping my voice steady.

Adrian held him pinned, his forearm pressed against the man’s throat.

“Who do you work for?” Adrian asked, his voice cold.

The man gasped for air, his eyes darting to the blueprint in my hand.

“I’m just the night watchman,” he wheezed. “The owner told me to clear out the squatters.”

“Which owner?” Adrian demanded, tightening his grip. “Grant Sterling?”

The man didn’t answer, but his silence was enough.

Adrian released him, giving him a hard shove toward the hallway.

“Get out,” Adrian said. “If I see you near this block again, you won’t walk away.”

The man scrambled backward, his boots clattering down the wooden stairs.

The sound of his retreat faded into the distant hum of the city.

I turned the flashlight back to Marcus.