The abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city felt like a tomb. Dust motes danced in the sparse beams of moonlight filtering through the shattered skylights, and the air tasted of stagnant water and rusted iron. Gillian moved with absolute silence, his boots barely whispering against the cracked concrete floor. His nerves were frayed, pulled tight like the strings of a well-worn instrument. He had tracked the target from the alleyway, his heart hammering against his ribs in a syncopated rhythm of dread and anticipation. Every shadow looked like a threat, and every groan of the wind outside sounded like a warning.
He stopped behind a stack of rotting wooden crates, his hand hovering near the holster at his side. He had come here for a reason. The mission was clear. He had been ord
