That satisfies him enough.
Dom’s voice cuts back in. “Van is leaving Matteo’s property.”
Alessandro: “Nico has visual. Maintaining distance.”
Logan turns toward us. “Load up.”
No one rushes. That’s how I know everyone is locked in. We move like men who already know what comes next. Doors open. Weapons secured. Men slide into position without needing to be told. Logan rides first van. Me, Shadow, Joker, Blaze. Hammer drives. Second van carries Cain, Carter, Landon, Logan, and Jimmy.
I climb in and sit by the rear doors. No one argues. No one asks if I should be up front. When those doors open, I’m first out. That’s understood.
The van pulls away. Inside, there is only engine hum, comms, and breathing.
Dom feeds directions through the line. “Transport turned south out of the estate. Nico holding five cars back.”
Alessandro adds, “They don’t appear to be alerted.”
“Yet,” Shadow mutters.
“Yet,” I agree. The word is the first one I’ve said in minutes.
Blaze looks at me. Still says nothing.
The city slides past in dark pieces through the windshield. Streetlights. Empty corners. Closed storefronts. The kind of normal world that keeps existing while monsters move women through it in vans with clean paperwork and paid routes.
My hands rest on my thighs. Loose. Ready. I count turns without meaning to. Left. Straight. Right. Long stretch. Industrial corridor. Everything comes back to dead buildings and quiet roads where nobody looks too closely after dark.
Dom’s voice stays steady. “Nico reports van slowing. Possible destination ahead.”
Alessandro says something in Italian under his breath, then switches back. “They are entering an old warehouse property. North side gate. One guard visible. Two cameras exterior.”
Dom answers, “I have satellite layout. Sending to your tablets now.”
The screen mounted near Logan’s seat lights with a rough building map. Warehouse. Three entrances. Main roll-up door. Side personnel entrance. Rear loading bay. Possible office interior on east side.
Shadow leans forward, studying it.
Logan’s voice comes through the comms from the front. “Cobra, Shadow, Joker, with me on side entry. Blaze, Jimmy, rear with Hammer. Cain takes second team around west and cuts retreat. Carter and Landon hold perimeter once breach starts. We need as many breathing as possible.”
Joker makes a quiet sound of disappointment.
Logan adds, “Dead men don’t give names.”
I look at the map. Warehouse. Men inside. Five maybe. More likely eight to ten. Delivery crew plus handlers. Maybe storage. Maybe records. Maybe girls already moved through and gone.Doesn’t matter. We take what’s there. We rip the rest from them.
Dom says, “MC is ten minutes out.”
Ten minutes.
I close my eyes once. Not to pray. Not to calm. To see her.
Olivia in my room, laughing under me. Olivia with my shirt on. Olivia handing Remy back to Kya like she belonged in the middle of the clubhouse chaos. Olivia looking at me and saying she loved all of me, even the parts that scare everyone else. My eyes open.
The van feels too small. But the violence stays contained. Timing. Targeting. Control. We turn off our headlights half a mile out. The vans roll in dark, engines low, tires whispering over cracked pavement. The warehouse appears ahead, long and ugly against the night. One exterior light flickers near the side door. Too quiet. Too still. Not abandoned.
Waiting.
I read it instantly.
