They weren't worried about me chasing them. That was their second mistake.
I hit the bottom step fast and pivoted left. The burner in my hoodie buzzed again—another confirmation ping from Michael—no words this time, only a location, confirmed.
A black SUV rolled out of the shadows half a block down, engine low and steady like it had been circling on idle. The car pulled curbside less than six feet from me.
Marcus.
He didn't get out. The passenger door swung open, interior cabin lit by a faint dashboard glow and the gleam of his ballistic vest under a zipped jacket.
I ducked in and yanked the door shut as he hit the gas. A rifle case sat between the seats. Two open radios crackled low.
Marcus didn't look at me right away. "What the hell happened?"
"They showed me a live feed," I said, working to catch my breath. "Didn't mean to. Michael grabbed the relay. We've got a location."
He nodded once and took a hard left across an empty intersection. The tires spat water and found their grip again without complaint.
"Michael's already in position. Pinged Elias fifteen minutes ago. Backup's light, but they're moving in from different sides." Elias was an old colleague of Michael's, and he only appeared when lives were in danger.
My second phone chirped again. An updated satellite image appeared, with the redXcentered on a long, corrugated rectangle between two container stacks. Heat sigs confirmed. One motionless. Two pacing. All three were inside the building.
Marcus's voice was low and controlled. "You think he's still alive?"
I didn't answer. I only said, "Drive faster."
He did.
The warehouse hunched between two walls of rusting containers. No signage. No exterior lighting. Only a flickering bulb over a side door that wasn't standard issue—new hinges and newer bolts, like someone had reinforced it in a hurry.
Marcus killed the headlights two blocks away. We coasted the rest of the way in darkness, engine low and smooth, wheels whispering over wet asphalt. I counted every heartbeat.
Michael emerged from behind a container stack as we pulled in—gear slung tight, weapon drawn, face set to war mode: no smirk or offhanded comment.
He nodded at us. Behind him, Elias appeared, shouldering a med pack that looked like he stole it from a field hospital.
I climbed out of the SUV before it entirely stopped.
"Thermal confirms three," Michael said. "Two walking patrols, one stationary in the interior room. Power grid's isolated but vulnerable—likely running off an internal backup loop."
He handed me a comm bead. I pressed it into my ear and adjusted the channel while Marcus pulled bolt cutters from the rear hatch.
"Entry point?" I asked, eyes already scanning the side of the structure.
"North wall," Michael answered. "Service panel's padlocked. One cut and we have a clean entry. No alarms and no sound."
Marcus tapped his earpiece, frowning. "James, you're breaking up. Say again?" A burst of digital static filled the comm channel. "Switching to backup frequency."
We moved. Four bodies spread out across the loading perimeter, our spacing calculated to keep all angles covered. I splashed through puddles, but they barely registered.
The scent of the harbor clung to everything—diesel, salt, and the distinctive smell of rotting fish. Somewhere inside the building, Dorian was suffering, and if they'd caused permanent damage, I'd tear the building down with my hands.
The lock snapped open with a dull clink, and the service door folded inward with a groan. Inside: near darkness in all corners, broken only by a single overhead lamp swinging near the center of the space.
I took point. No argument. Marcus watched my six while Michael flanked left and Elias cut through the machinery rows on the far side.
Footsteps. Two men. Talking low, casual, unhurried—like they were guarding inventory, not a hostage.
I edged forward, tracking them with my ears more than my eyes, until the pool of light revealed the makeshift holding cell—a fabricated steel room inside the warehouse. One man leaned against it, weapon slung loose. The other held a tablet, the same model as on the steps of the federal building.
