“Three more over here,” Liselle responded. “That’s all of them.”

“Let’s move,” Grayson said to Sanak, leaping out from behind the cover of the crate and racing toward the fallen aliens.

The turians were members of the Talon gang, and the warehouse was a building deep inside Talon territory. Given the time of night and the remote location, it was unlikely anyone had heard the shots. But there was always a chance, and the longer they stayed the more likely they’d have to deal with reinforcements.

By the time he and Sanak reached the bodies, Liselle and the two batarians that made up the rest of her team were already rifling through their victims’ clothes.

“Five kilos so far,” the blue-skinned asari informed Grayson, holding up several plastic bags tightly packed with a fine, rosy powder. “Ninety, maybe ninety-five percent pure.”

From personal experience, Grayson knew it took only a small pinch of refined red sand to get a human high. Five kilos was enough to keep an entire apartment complex floating for the better part of a year. A stash this size could easily fetch six figures back in Council space. Which was precisely why Aria had ordered this hit.

There were no actual laws on Omega, no police force. Order was maintained solely by the gangs that ran the space station. But though there were no laws, there were rules. Rule number one: don’t cross Aria T’Loak.

“Two more kilos on this one,” Sanak said, pulling another tightly wrapped brick from inside the vest of the corpse he was searching.

“This one got caught in the cross fire,” one of the other batarians said, holding up a bag so Grayson could see the grains of sand streaming out of the tiny hole in the side.

“Patch it up!” Grayson snapped angrily, taking a quick step back.

Red sand had no effect on batarians or asari, but one good whiff and he’d be dusted for the rest of the night.