Ava’s POV:
The warehouse door rises slowly.
The sound grates against the quiet like metal grinding on bone. Cold air pours inside, carrying the smell of the river and wet concrete. The driver moves immediately, stepping in front of the table and reaching beneath his jacket.
Julian’s hand closes around my arm.
“Stay behind me,” he says quietly.
The silhouettes sharpen as the door lifts higher. Three figures step inside first, their shapes framed by the white headlights of a vehicle behind them. I can’t see their faces yet. Only posture.
They seemed controlled and professional. The kind of control that makes people dangerous.
Julian’s body stiffens beside me.
“That’s fast,” he mutters.
“They followed us,” I whisper.
“No,” he replies. “They predicted.”
The first man steps forward i
