The atmosphere inside the house was heavy with drama. The war room the series of pads under the old factory that had not been lit since the bombs dropped.
James bent over the map of blueprints, tracing his fingers across the map of Istanbul: Each red mark was a Syndicate stronghold, and every single one must fall.
Across from him, Lina reloaded her pistol, focused and calm. Malik was pacing by the entrance, as agitated as ever. Sarah occupied the computer, monitoring Syndicate communications.
Their driver and local contact, Arif, had just come back from gathering intel. He set a folder on the table.
“They are mobilizing,” he said in a low voice. “The Syndicate knows you murdered Idris. They’ve already “upgraded” him to someone worse.”
James clenched his jaw. “Who?”
Arif sighed. And h
