A breath of something like relief breaks across his face.
“I’m here.”
46
Clay
The vehicle stops two blocks out.
No lights.
No noise once we hit the ground.
Just darkness and the sound of boots moving fast over dirt and rock.
Lucas falls in beside me, tablet dimmed low. “Structure’s up ahead. Minimal external lighting.”
“Too quiet?” Miles asks.
“Yeah.”
I nod.
Too quiet means ready.
We slow as the outline of the building comes into view—low, industrial, tucked into the edge of a tree line like it doesn’t want to be found.
“Thermals?” I ask.
Lucas checks. “Multiple heat signatures inside. Moving.”
“How many.”
“More than last time.”
Of course.
“They’re expecting trouble now,” Miles mutters.
Good.
Let them.
I crouch low, scanning the perimeter.
Two guards outside.
Armed.
Alert.
Not enough.
“Lucas, take left. Miles, right. Quiet.”
They move without hesitation.
Two suppressed shots—
