The warehouse was freezing.
Damien stood in the shadows, studying the documents Jake had spread across a metal table. Photographs. Security footage. Hand-drawn maps of a facility that looked more like a prison than a medical center.
“This is it,” Jake said, pointing to a concrete building about forty minutes outside the city limits. “Underground. Three levels. I’ve been watching it for two weeks. The security changes shifts at 6 AM and 6 PM. There’s a ten-minute window where the perimeter is less monitored.”
Damien looked at the surveillance photos. Guards in dark suits. High fences. No windows. No way in or out that didn’t go through the front entrance.
“How did you find this place?” Damien asked.
“Followed one of Viktor’s guys,” Jake said. “Tracked him for days. He led me here. Then
