The SUV screeched to a halt outside the abandoned warehouse on the industrial edge of the city—rusted metal walls, broken windows like black eyes, the faint stink of oil and decay hanging in the humid night air. The tracker signal had led them here: a single red dot blinking steadily on Armani’s phone screen, deep inside the structure.
Armani was out before the engine fully cut. He moved like a storm—gun already drawn, safety off, eyes scanning the perimeter with lethal focus. Lucas and Theo flanked him instantly, weapons up, silent and synchronized. The rest of the team—Anthony, Jade, Mara—fanned out to cover the exits, but the triplets didn’t wait for backup. They never did.
“How the hell did the tracker lead here so fast?” Lucas muttered as they breached the side door, flashlights cut
