The building was a monument to secrecy—a sprawling complex on the outskirts of Brussels that had been off the grid for decades. Rook stood across the street, his eyes fixed on the iron gates, the weight of the next step pressing down on him like something that had been waiting for this exact moment.
Wick's intelligence had been precise. The final thread led here—to the origin of everything. The one who'd been pulling the strings from the very beginning, who'd orchestrated the partnership, the old guard, the Collective, Yakov, Volkov, Elena, Kruger—all of them were pawns in a larger game.
Irina moved up beside him, her voice low and careful. "The surveillance is in place. We've got eyes on all the exits. But there's something strange about this place, Rook. It's not like the others."
Roo
