There was no flashbang, no explosion. Instead, there was the metallic sound of a glass cutter and the slight hiss of a high-pressure gas canister being deployed. I felt Cane’s body undergo a terrifying change. He didn’t shift fully, but his skin turned to ice, and his muscles hardened into granite.
"Saul," I said, scrambling back as Cane lunged for his discarded shirt.
"The bastard didn't wait!"
"He's a professional, Eloise," Cane spat.
"He saw the threat. He didn't call for a rescue; he called for an extermination."
Saul’s team didn't pour in with sirens; they seeped in like ink. Twelve men in black tactical gear, their movements disciplined and silent.
"Extraction point confirmed," a voice whispered, the signal bleeding into my phone’s speakers.
"Target 'Polaris' is in the loft
