into a command center.
The mood changes instantly.
Tables get pushed together.
A map is spread across the wooden table.
Havoc opens his laptop.
Routes, terrain, and satellite overlays start appearing on the screens.
This is the part we’re good at.
Protecting people.
Stopping bad men.
And preparing for war.
“Your mother won’t stop,” Trigger says, leaning back in his chair as he studies Marco.
“I know,” Marco replies.
There’s no hesitation in his voice.
No denial.
Just certainty.
“She’s already sent a second team.”
The words hit the room like a punch.
Saint’s head lifts slowly.
“When?”
Marco exhales.
“They’re probably already in the country.”
Havoc’s expression darkens.
“Objective?”
Marco’s gaze shifts across the table.
“My sister.”
The room goes still.
Saint speaks again.
Quiet.
Dangerous.
“And the baby?”
