“North room—girl. South room—boy. Four guards inside. Two outside. Cameras are live, but I’m looping them now.”
Silas lifted his hand slightly.
Behind him, his team went still.
Every man there knew the rules. No noise unless necessary. No unnecessary damage. No mistakes.
“Jace,” Silas said, eyes scanning the warehouse doors. “If this goes sideways—”
“It won’t,” Jace cut in. “They won’t even know they were breached until it’s over.”
A beat.
“And Silas?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve got about twelve minutes before someone notices the signal drop.”
“That’s more thanenough.”
He moved first.
The door to the north room creaked open just enough for Silas to slip inside. The guard never heard him. One swift movement—pressure applied, body caught before it hit the floor.
Silas didn’t look at the man twice.
The girl sat curled into herself in the far corner, knees to her chest, eyes wide and glassy. Eleven years old. Too quiet. Too still.
“Hey,” Silas said softly, crouching. “You’re okay. I’m here.”
She flinched at first—then froze when she saw his face. No anger. No hunger. Just certainty.
“You’re going home,” he told her. “I promise.”
In his earpiece, Jace spoke again.
“South room’s hot. Two guards. One’s armed.”
Silas stood.
“Moving.”
The second room was chaos waiting to happen.
Michael fought back the second Silas entered fear making him reckless, survival turning sharp. One guard reached for his weapon.
Silas was faster.
The sound was dull. Controlled. Over before it could echo.
Michael stared at him, breathing hard.
“No one’s taking you anywhere,” Silas said firmly. “Not tonight. Not ever again.”
The boy’s shoulders shook as the words sank in.
Outside, his team secured the exits with surgical precision.
