Anthony’s POV

The door opens without ceremony.

A guard steps inside, urgency in every line of his body.

“Lord. The tracker just lit up. New movement.”

I finish the last button on my shirt. “Show me.”

He hands over the tablet.

“The biker we’ve been watching met a cargo van two hours ago. Empty warehouse, east side of the city.”

I swipe through the stills.

The van is plain, windows tinted, plates smeared with mud on ...