“Then coordinate like we used to,” I say. “Clean. Efficient. Brutal.”
Fyr nods once, decisive. “Understood.”
I step closer and lower my voice, just for him. “No civilian collateral.”
He meets my gaze. “I know the rule.”
“Say it,” I demand.
His jaw flexes. Then, through clenched teeth, he says, “No civilian collateral.”
“Good,” I murmur. “Because I’ll execute my own men before I let fear turn us into predators.”
Fyr’s eyes hold mine for a beat. Then he nods and turns, barking orders into his comm as he storms out.
Renn watches him go, wary. “You trust him?”
I don’t look away from the map. “I trust his ego. It’s predictable. That’s better than trust.”
Renn exhales like he hates that answer but can’t argue.
I slap a palm on the holo map, expanding the financial node overlay. Three bright points glow—the same ones from last night’s planning. The ledger vault is the heart. The freight hub is the lungs. The League bank interface is the artery.
“Convoy,” Renn says. “You sure you want to be out there?”
I glance at him. “You sure you want me hiding while my house burns?”
His expression hardens. “No.”
“Then move.”
My convoy isn’t flashy.
Two armored transports, one decoy runner, and four bikes running perimeter like sharks. We keep lights low. We keep comms tight. The streets of Gur are already choked with tension—shops shuttering, civilians pulling kids indoors, syndicate crews posturing on corners like they’re waiting for someone else to blink first.
The air tastes like exhaust and ozone. I can smell smoke somewhere distant, curling through the city like a rumor.
Renn rides in the lead transport with me, eyes fixed on the forward cam. The vehicle hums under my boots, suspension rattling softly as we hit patched pavement.
A comm ping.
Fyr’s voice, clipped. “Armory two secured. Shipments rerouted to lockdown storage. Two captains tried to argue.”
“And?” I ask.
Fyr’s tone goes flat. “They’re sleeping.”
I snort. “Good.”
“Boss,” he adds, and there’s a note in his voice I don’t like—something like warning. “This is bigger than the Nine squeezing tribute. They’re not just stirring us. They’re coordinating rivals.”
“I know,” I say.
“Then you know they’ll hit you at the choke,” Fyr replies.
I glance at Renn. Renn’s jaw tightens.
“Copy,” I tell Fyr. “Stay alive.”
