About the promise I made to come back.
I have to keep that promise.
No matter what.
The warehouse looms out of the darkness—big, industrial, surrounded by chain-link fence and scrub brush.
Two white vehicles sit in the loading bay.
A van.
A bus.
Just like the intel said.
"There," Ulf points. "Movement by the van."
I see them—figures moving in the shadows, loading something into the vehicles.
Not something.
Someone.
Kids.
I can see them now, small shapes being herded like cattle.
Six of them, just like Fenrir said.
Scared.
Helpless.
Rage burns through my veins.
"Hold position." Fenrir's voice comes through the radio. "Wait for my signal."
We watch.
Count heads.
Eight men total, maybe more inside.
All armed.
This isn't going to be clean.
"On my mark," Fenrir says. "Three... two... one... go."
We move.
Silent and fast, spreading out to cover the exits.
For maybe thirty seconds, we have the element of surprise.
Then someone spots us.
"Contact!"
