“Famous last words,” he mutters, but he’s already pulling up building schematics and satellite imagery of our target location.
As we begin planning our reconnaissance mission, I try to ignore the voice in my head that sounds suspiciously like Misha:Be careful, sestrenka. Desperation makes him unpredictable.
And I try not to think about the fact that we’re about to walk directly into the web of the most dangerous man I’ve ever encountered—a man who’s spent five years planning his revenge against my family.
CHAPTER 19
Rafa
The warehouse districtin Brooklyn feels like the end of the world, abandoned buildings stretching along the waterfront like broken teeth, their windows dark, and their purposes long forgotten by legitimate society. It is a perfect place for criminals to conduct business away from prying eyes. Less perfect for two people trying to spy on those criminals.
"Third conduit from the left," I mutter, balancing on the fire escape outside the target building while trying to splice into the telecommunications junction box. "Should give us access to both cellular and hardline communications."
"Should?" Kira's voice carries skeptical amusement from her position, watching the street below. "That doesn't inspire confidence in your technical abilities, Rosso."
"My technical abilities are flawless," I reply, carefully stripping insulation from the fiber optic cable. "It's the forty-year-old infrastructure I'm worried about."
"If your abilities were truly flawless, you wouldn't need to worry about infrastructure limitations."
I glance down at her, noting how she's positioned herself to have clear sightlines in all directions while maintaining coverbehind a concrete barrier. She looks elegant even in field gear—black tactical pants, dark hoodie, hair pulled back under a baseball cap.
"Are you seriously questioning my methods while I'm hanging three stories up with live electrical cables?" I ask.
"I'm providing constructive feedback on your technique. There's a difference."
"The difference being?"
"Constructive feedback helps you improve. Questioning your methods implies you might be incompetent." She tilts her head, considering. "Though given your current approach, either interpretation could be valid."
Despite the danger of our situation, I find myself fighting a smile. "You know, most people would offer encouragement in a situation like this."
"Most people haven't watched you work. I have higher standards."
"Higher standards, or trust issues?"
"Both, probably."
The fiber optic splice finally takes, and I begin connecting our monitoring device—a piece of hardware Gio designed that's roughly the size of a cigarette pack but capable of intercepting and recording every electronic communication within a quarter-mile radius.
"Got it," I announce, securing the device and beginning my descent. "Give it thirty seconds to sync, and we'll have access to everything—calls, texts, security feeds, internet traffic."
"Impressive," Kira admits, though her attention remains focused on the street. "How long before?—"
The words die in her throat as the unmistakable sound of automatic weapons fire erupts from inside the warehouse. Not gunshots aimed at us, but violence happening within the building we're monitoring.
"Shit," I whisper, dropping the last few feet to ground level. "That's not part of any plan."
"Multiple shooters," Kira observes. Her training is evident in how quickly she's assessed the audio patterns. "At least three different weapons, probably more."
"We need to?—"
The warehouse's side door explodes outward as men in tactical gear pour into the alley, weapons raised, scanning for threats. Not police—their equipment is too mismatched, their movements too aggressive—private security, or worse.
"Move," I hiss, grabbing Kira's arm and pulling her toward the maze of containers and abandoned vehicles that litter the area.
We make it maybe twenty yards before the shout goes up behind us.
"???????! ?????????? ????!"
