The Heist

"You sure about this?"

Tyrrell looked up from his blade, running a cloth over its edge one last time. Elias was across from him, arms crossed, brows furrowed. The flickering torchlight in the room lent gravity to the tension between them.

"We don't have a choice," Tyrrell muttered, sliding the dagger into his belt.

Elias let out a slow breath, shaking his head. "We always have a choice."

Not this time."

Layla stood at the far side of the war room, staring down at the map ...