“What.”
Nico turns, arm draped over the headrest. His expression is easy, but his eyes are sharper than he lets most people see. “You know she’s not going to stay in that room.”
“The lock is biometric. Keyed to me.”
Nico’s mouth curves. “You sure about that?”
“Five minutes out.” Dante’s voice pulls me back. “Marco, you reading us?”
The comms crackle. “Loud and clear. I’ve got eyes on the compound. Thermal shows maybe a dozen heat signatures. Less than we expected.”
Less than we expected. Cold prickles at the base of my spine.
“How many were we expecting?” Nico asks.
“Intel said twenty to thirty. Armed. Professional.”
“And we’re seeing twelve?”
“Eleven now. One just went off the grid. Could be a bathroom break. Could be nothing.”
“Proceed as planned,” Dante says. “Stay sharp.”
The compound materializes out of the darkness. High walls. Razor wire. Built to keep people in as much as out. We park a quarter mile back and go on foot, moving through the underbrush like shadows. I take point. Gun drawn. Every sense tuned to the environment.
The night is too quiet. I’ve done enough of these to read the rhythm of a guarded site. The shuffle of boots. The soft murmur of bored men passing time. The click of lighters, the glow of cigarettes in dark corners.
None of that here.
We reach the perimeter. Two guards at the east gate, where there should be four. They’re not patrolling. Just standing. Like they’re waiting.
“This feels wrong.” Nico’s voice is barely a breath beside me.
I nod once. But we’re already here. Sofia might be inside. Isabella gave up everything to reach her sister, and I put her in a box so I could be the one to bring Sofia home. I can’t turn back now.
Hand signals. Dante left flank. Nico right. I go through the middle.
The first guard doesn’t see me coming. I’m behind him before his partner can react, knife across his throat, lowering the body to the ground. The second guard reaches for his radio. My bullet hits him between the eyes. Two down. Too easy.
We move through the facility like a blade through water. The layout matches Marco’s intel. Main building ahead. Holding area in the basement. Administrative offices on the second floor. But where the hell are the guards?
I clear rooms. Storage. Empty. Kitchen. Coffee on the counter, still warm. An office with papers scattered across a desk, a printer still humming. They knew we were coming. They left in a hurry.
Why leave in a hurry if they set this up?
“Renzo.” Dante, in my ear. “Second floor is clear. No resistance.”
“First floor clear,” Nico adds. “Something’s wrong.”
Since we pulled up and the night was too still.
The basement stairs yawn ahead of me. Dark. Silent. I descend.
The holding area is where Marco said it would be. Reinforced door. Electronic lock. I bypass it in seconds, a skill I learned long before Isabella made hacking look like poetry.
The door swings open.
Empty.
