Hank
The door comes off its hinges with a single breaching charge.
I move through the smoke before it clears, weapon up, scanning for threats.
The warehouse opens up in front of me—massive space, industrial lights, and a crowd of men frozen in place, staring at the back entrance like they can't believe what they're seeing.
They should believe it.
I've been doing this for fifteen years.
But this time is different.
This time it's Sam.
"Contact left!" Knox's voice comes through the comms, sharp and clear.
I pivot, see one of Brennan's men reaching for a weapon at his hip. I put two rounds center mass before he clears leather. He drops.
The crowd scatters.
Men shouting, running for exits, trampling each other to get away from the gunfire. Some of them are buyers—businessmen, predato
