Chapter Eight
Luca didn’t like thetiming.
That alone was enough to make him distrust everything about the intel that had come in.
They were two days out from Havelock’s death.Two days into the quiet that always followed a major cleanup—the false calm where everyone assumed the threat had passed because the loud part was over.The Iron Covenant had done what it always did in the immediate aftermath, they pulled inward, tightened communications, rotated safe locations, scrubbed digital trails, and shut down anything that didn’t absolutely need to breathe.
No loose ends.No celebration.No sense of victory.
Which meant intel surfacing now—clean, specific, and conveniently actionable—wasn’t coincidence.It was bait.
“Tell me what this intel said again?”Luca said, because he wanted to hear where the cracks were.And he was pissed that this intel was sound enough it actually convinced the Covenant to follow the lead.
They were all standing beside their parked car on a service road overlooking the industrial fringe of the city.No lights.Engines cold.The building sat half a kilometer away, a squat concrete relic from a time when cold storage meant meat and produce instead of people.Frosted windows.Minimal exterior lighting.Too neat.
Mara was safe with two of the Covenant with her, Elias and Rafael.There was no one else he would rather have at her side than one of his brothers.This was just recon, nothing too outlandish.
Mateo leaned over the hood of the truck, tablet braced against the metal.The glow painted his face hard and sharp.“There is a secondary transport node,” he repeated.“Not one of Havelock’s primaries.It has a smaller footprint, and cleaner books.Intel says that they move product once a week, sometimes less.And product is their fucking word—they are moving women, girls.”Mateo’s voice positively dripped with disgust.“The girls don’t stay in one place for long.”
“That’s not how this should work,” Dominic muttered, scanning the building through optics.“They don’t rotate assets that fast unless they’re burning a trail.”
Kol hadn’t looked up once.He was listening with his whole body, head tilted slightly, eyes unfocused the way they got when he stopped seeing the room and started seeing patterns instead.“Someone’s scrubbing,” he said quietly.“Not panicked.Deliberate.They’re collapsing a lane without drawing attention.”
That itch settled between Luca’s shoulders—the familiar warning that told him they were already reacting instead of dictating terms.
Mateo flicked his fingers and a map bloomed across the tablet.“The warehouse is on the industrial fringe of the city.It is a cold-storage facility partially rezoned as a logistics depot.There are cameras on the perimeter and security is light but steady.The power draw doesn’t fluctuate.”
“Meaning it’s active,” Luca said.
“And monitored,” Mateo agreed.“Minimal presence on paper.”He glanced up.“Which I really don’t like.”
Luca nodded once.“We move quiet.We get in, have a look around, and get out.If we find any women or children, then we get them the hell out of there.We do not chase if the fucker’s run.”
Elias’s voice slid into their comms, low and even.“Agreed.No heroics.”
Luca didn’t respond.Elias knew better than to think that was a command.It was a reminder.
They approached on foot.
The night pressed in close, heavy with the smell of damp concrete and old oil.The building loomed larger as they closed the distance, lights sparse, security lazy in the way men got when they believed the right palms had been greased.
Kol took overwatch, melting into shadow.Dominic ghosted left.Mateo stayed close to Luca, their shoulders brushing once in silent acknowledgment.
Two guards went down without a sound.
Inside, the air was colder than it should have been.Refrigeration units hummed at a low, constant pitch—just enough to preserve whatever passed through here.Luca’s eyes swept the space automatically.
Cages along the far wall.
Doors open.
