Chapter 32 Trigger
Trigger
The processing plant looks dead.
Which means it isn’t.
Three stories of concrete rise out of the fog, rusted catwalks hanging like broken ribs along the sides of the structure. Most of the windows are dark.
But not all of them.
One generator is running.
Which means someone wants power.
Which means someone expects company.
Two heat signatures move along the second floor.
Guards.
And one more.
Lower.
Still.
“That’s him,” Wolf murmurs beside me, studying the thermal feed on the tablet. “Basement level. Center structure.”
Saint.
Alive.
Marco is already moving before anyone finishes speaking.
“She’ll have overwatch,” he says quietly. “Two teams minimum.”
Havoc checks the magazine on his weapon with a quiet click.
“Good,” he says.
“I was bored.”
We split without another word.
Wolf and I move west, sliding along the outer wall toward a reinforced service door.
Havoc climbs the steel ladder to the upper catwalk, disappearing into the shadows above.
Marco…
Marco vanishes.
One second he’s beside us.
The next he’s gone.
I hold up my hand.
Three fingers.
Wolf nods.
Three.
Two.
One.
The west door comes off its hinges in a tight, controlled blast.
We’re already moving when the echo hits the far walls.
Inside smells like rust, oil, and stale water.
“Clear.”
“Clear.”
A shout from above.
“Contact, second floor!”
Gunfire cracks through the open interior.
Short bursts.
Precise.
Not a firefight.
An execution of bad decisions.
Wolf drops two guards on the stairwell before they even finish turning toward us.
I take one at the end of the corridor.
He never sees me.
“Basement door is reinforced,” Havoc says over comms.
“Working it,” Wolf replies.
We move fast down the main corridor, boots pounding against concrete.
Then I hear it.
A scraping sound.
Metal dragging across the floor.
A low grunt.
Saint.
Alive.
That’s all I need.
Wolf plants the charge.
The explosion blows the reinforced door inward in a cloud of smoke and sparks.
We move through the opening.
Weapons up.
Scanning.
Then—
“Saint!”
His head snaps up.
Even battered and bleeding, his eyes go lethal the second he sees us.
“About time,” he says hoarsely.
Wolf cuts the cuffs while I cover the doorway.
Metal falls away from Saint’s wrists.
He rolls his shoulders, wincing.
Then the building goes dark.
The overhead lights die instantly.
Backup generators kick in a second later.
Red emergency lights flood the room.
Alarms start screaming.
“She knows,” Wolf says.
“Yeah,” Marco’s voice crackles over the comms.
Calm.
Too calm.
“She just realized I was never outside.”