The two of them walked over with a group in tow. Their gazes swept over the boxes on the ground and the buckets filled with water that hadn't been moved yet. One of them raised an eyebrow. "What's all this about?"
"Don't you have eyes?" Jayce shot back. "Can't you see for yourself?"
"You—"
Hugo Cheney's anger flared.
But only for a moment.
Hugo Cheney turned his head to face the people in the warehouse. "We're from the official base. We came here to take all these cans back. Get your things; you can all come back with us!"
Hugo Cheney's tone was firm, leaving no room for argument.
This wasn't a discussion; it was an order.
Upon hearing this, the people in the warehouse glanced at Hugo Cheney, then turned to look at Jayce.
They didn't say a word, but their meaning was obvious. They were asking what was going on.
'Didn't we just agree to trade for supplies?'
'The trade is barely over, and they're already turning on us?'
