Elena and child unaccounted for.
Going dark.
That was it.
No details.
No status.
No confirmation whether she was alive or already taken.
My jaw tightened as I sprinted across the runway toward the waiting convoy.
The SUV doors were already open.
My men moved with me instantly — no questions, no hesitation. They knew better than to speak when my silence was this heavy.
We peeled out from the airstrip.
Three black SUVs tearing through the night.
Headlights off.
Windows tinted to blackout.
Speed pinned beyond legal limits.
The city blurred into streaks of light as we drove toward the estate.
No one spoke inside the vehicle.
My fingers rested on the grip of my sidearm.
Loaded.
Ready.
Waiting for contact.
The closer we got, the tighter my chest felt.
When the gates came into view — my stomach dropped.
The wrought-iron entrance hung open.
One panel had been ripped halfway off its hinges, metal twisted like it had been torn by brute force rather than tools.
The security lights flickered overhead.
Bullet casings scattered across the gravel driveway glinted under the glow — small metallic stars marking where violence had already unfolded.
Three bodies lay sprawled near the entrance.
My men.
Throats slit.
Eyes staring at nothing.
