The afternoon sun sat low behind the gray clouds, turning the sky into a dull sheet of silver. The air was thick with heat and tension. Dust lifted from the tires of Lucian’s trucks as they rolled down the deserted road.
The signal Marco had traced flickered steady on the screen. It came from an old industrial area near the outskirts of the city — the same direction where Cruz’s men had taken the women the night before.
Lucian sat in the passenger seat of the lead truck. His jaw was tight. His hand rested over his gun. Lorenzo sat behind him, scanning the map again.
“This is the place,” Marco said from the front. “Warehouse twenty-four. Signal hasn’t moved in an hour.”
Lucian’s eyes narrowed. “Then they’re still there.”
The trucks stopped a few meters from the gate. The place looked d
