Ninety four people move at once.
I have coordinated operations before takeovers, territorial consolidations, controlled conflicts with rival syndicates but I know what coordinated movement usually feels like: rehearsed, predictable, contained within expectations.
This is not that.
This is ninety four of ours, plus Marcus Decker’s thirty one, merged into a single force that has never operated together, moving against Anton Reves’s sixty trained personnel and the invisible backing of Constantin Marre’s infrastructure.
Different. Not impossible.
I move through the east maintenance corridor with Faye on my left and Reth on my right. The same corridor Reves’s men breached two nights ago. Now it is ours again.
The smell hits first smoke, metal, scorched structure. My compound still stands,
