Antonov wouldn’t wait long.
She knew that.
The minute he got his legs back under him, he’d strike back, harder, deadlier.
So they had to move first.
Isla watched Damien and Gabriel explain the plan from the middle of the safe house’s briefing room, arms crossed.
The overhead light, dimming, flickered over the maps and documents spread across the table.
“Antonov’s main operation is out of an offshore facility,” Damien told Gabriel, pointing at a satellite image.
“Arms, money laundering, human trafficking. It’s his nerve center.”
Gabriel smirked. “And we are about to sever the nerves.”
Nathaniel leaned back against the wall.
“Security?”
Damien’s jaw tightened. “Heavy. Mercenaries, high-tech surveillance and a lockdown protocol that secures the compound in seconds.”
Isla studie
