The warehouse lights burned harsh and white, cutting through the mist.

Boots splashed across the concrete floor as Doran’s tactical team fanned out, rifles sweeping between the towering cargo stacks. The echo of movement bounced off metal and glass.

“Sector clear!” someone called.

“Negative visual on targets.”

Doran stepped through the main bay doors, flanked by the man in the gray coat and two operatives. Her coat was immaculate despite the chaos; only the tension in her jaw ...