The rain hit like bullets, sharp and relentless, soaking Noa’s jacket as he stepped onto the cracked concrete of the abandoned shipping yard. The location she sent was classic: a wide open kill box with nowhere to hide, no exits, no backup.

He came alone.

His grip tightened on his gun, but the weight of it didn’t steady his pulse. It hammered anyway, loud, messy, screaming that this was a suicide mission.

But he wasn’t leaving Dominik to die.

Not after everything.

Dominik wasn’t just an ...