NICO
TARGET ALEKSANDR
The sun sets, casting golden and yellow hues across the city. The sidewalks gradually clear. People retreat inside. The shop windows grow dark.
Now we move.
Miff taps the tablet. “We found their rotation point.”
He zooms in on a narrow alley behind a bakery.
“Basement entrance here. At least twelve heat signatures below.”
“Aleksandr?” I ask.
“Not confirmed.”
Serenity leans over the screen. “He won’t be in the basement.”
We all look at her.
She points to the building across the street. “Top floor. Best sightline. Men like Aleksandr don’t hide underground when they can watch people bleed from above.”
Miff checks the drone feed. “Two guards on the fire escape. One seated near the window behind blackout curtains.”
I grin. “That’s him.”
Serenity looks at me. “You’re welcome.”
“Don’t get cocky.”
“You like me cocky,” she says.
“I like you alive.”
Angel groans. “Can we focus?”
“Agreed,” Kicks mutters.
My amusement dies.
“Night team moves in five. We’re going into the basement first. Then we’ll go to the top floor in the building across the street. I want Aleksandr breathing.”
My men move like shadows as we approach the back door of the bakery. The air smells like old bread, garbage, and rain trapped in hot concrete.
Miff disables the alley camera. Ritchie handles the basement lock. Angel sticks close to Serenity’s left side. I take point just ahead of her.
The lock releases with a soft click.
The stairs vanish into the blackness below.
I tap my earpiece twice; the team acknowledges our positions.
We move.
The basement reeks of mold, cigarette smoke, and gun oil. Russian voices drift from ahead.
I lift two fingers.
