Damien's breath fogged the window of the SUV as it screeched to a halt in front of the rusting warehouse. His heart pounded like a war drum in his chest. The intel had finally led them here—a secluded area just outside the city, the kind of place no one passed by accidentally.
The sun had barely begun to rise, casting pale orange light across the concrete walls. The quiet before the storm.
His team moved with precision. They fanned out in a semi-circle, weapons drawn, each trained to scan every corner for ambush. Damien led the charge, eyes sharp, jaw clenched. He had waited for this moment for forty-eight long, torturous hours.
He could feel her.
"Go silent," he ordered through the comms. "Breach in five."
Four fingers. Three. Two.
On one, the door blasted open with a crash of steel
