“Yes.”
Mikel glances toward me again. “We can move now.”
“Not yet,” I instruct.
The trucks must remain inside the corridor before we close the entrance. If even one vehicle escapes, Ivan’s network survives another day.
I continue watching the tablet while the unloading begins along the dock. Two men swing open the rear doors of the lead truck while another climbs onto the loading platform to guide the transfer. Seconds later, the first crates appear, heavy wooden boxes passed carefully from the truck to the dock. Weapons. The shipment is real, and with every crate they move, Ivan’s operation grows stronger. Which means this moment ends here.
I lift my gaze toward the depot entrance where our blocking vehicles wait beyond the line of warehouses. “Mikel.”
He turns slightly in his seat.
“Close the corridor,” I tell him.
He reaches for the radio immediately. “All units move.”
The instruction moves across the channel with disciplined coordination. Through the windshield, I watch the first of our vehicles accelerate toward the depot entrance, its headlights still dark as the driver guides it across the open gate and into the corridor behind the convoy.
A second SUV follows seconds later, sliding into position across the narrow passage between the warehouses. The exit disappears.
Inside the yard, Ivan’s men notice the movement almost immediately. One of the guards turns toward the corridor and raises his weapon, shouting at the others near the trucks.
Ivan pivots sharply, his attention snapping toward the blocked entrance as confusion spreads through the yard. The unloading halts, and the men near the trucks reach for their weapons.
I open the door of the SUV and step out into the cold air. Mikel exits the vehicle beside me while the rest of our team begins advancing along the outer wall of the warehouse.
Inside the yard, Ivan studies the blocked corridor for a moment before scanning the darkness beyond the trucks. He can’t see us yet, but he understands what has happened. His voice rises across the yard as he begins shouting orders to the guards. Weapons come up.
Mikel glances toward me. “Ready.”
I study the loading dock's structure and the trucks positioned along the corridor. Every piece of the operation now sits exactly where we need it. “Do it.”
Mikel lifts the radio again. “Charges armed.”
“Stand by,” I reply.
Ivan’s men begin moving toward the trucks, attempting to reposition the vehicles while the guards take cover along the loading platform. They still believe escape remains possible.
Ivan stands near the lead truck, shouting orders as he gestures toward the blocked corridor. His men scramble to obey, dragging crates aside and trying to force one of the trucks into reverse. They’re too late.
I watch the yard for another moment, confirming his position beside the loading dock before turning slightly toward Mikel. “Detonate.”
Mikel presses the trigger. The explosion rips through the western warehouse wall with violent force. Steel beams shear apart as the roof collapses inward, sending a massive section of concrete and twisted metal crashing down across the loading dock.
The blast wave rolls across the yard, knocking several men off their feet while fire bursts through the shattered structure. Ivan turns at the last second, his expression changing from command to raw disbelief as the collapsing roof descends toward him.
Then the structure gives way. A wall of steel, concrete, and burning debris crashes down across the dock, swallowing the trucks, the cargo, and Ivan Malenko beneath thousands of pounds of collapsing metal.
The fire spreads quickly through the wreckage as ammunition crates ignite inside the wrecked trucks. When the dust settles, the loading dock is gone.
So is Ivan.
His operation ends beneath a mountain of burning steel and shattered concrete.
17
ROWAN
