Chapter 4
Southern China, present day
Andrei Dragunov
I really should have listened to my gut the moment I saw the factory.
But I didn’t.
It sat on the edge of an industrial district outside Shenzhen like a concrete box someone had tried to make pretty with glass. The building was all clean lines, mirrored windows, and there was a sign on the front that read: Advanced Systems Manufacturing, LLC.
The air smelled like rain and metal. Humidity clung to my shirt the second I stepped out of the car. Trucks rumbled past on the main road, loaded with crates and containers stamped with logos I didn’t recognize.
My driver met me at the entrance and pulled away without a word. I didn’t bother watching him go. I wasn’t going to see him again.
A man in a navy suit met me in the lobby. Late forties, neatly combed hair, glasses. He had the polished politeness of someone used to dealing with government delegations and corporate clients.
“Mr. Dragunov,” he said in smooth English. “Welcome. I am Mr. Liang. We are honored to host you.”
“Likewise,” I said with my best business smile. “Thank you for accommodating the short notice.”
“For a valued client, we always find time.” He gestured down the corridor. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you the units.”
We walked through a series of gleaming hallways, each section more secure than the last. ID panels. Cameras. Subtle laser grids. Whatever they had in the back, they were proud of it and very clearly protective of it.
“The prototypes we provided for the first trial run were very successful,” Liang said as we walked. “Your people seemed pleased.”
“That’s one word for it,” I said.
Now? The game had changed. The supplier didn’t know that. As far as Advanced Systems Manufacturing was concerned, they were just moving product.
We reached a reinforced door. Liang pressed his hand to the panel. The lock disengaged with an electronic hiss.
He turned, smiling. “After you.”
The room beyond was a warehouse painted in white.
Bright lights. Clean lines. No dust. Everything organized in little rows so neat my eye twitched.
Crates lined one wall, each marked with serial numbers.
In the center of the room sat a line of drones on metal stands, like a row of sleek, predatory birds waiting to be unleashed.
They were bigger than the first batch.
Beefier.
The original prototypes had been much leaner and more compact, mainly designed for agility. These were heavier in the body, with thicker armatures, more robust rotors, and reinforced frames. The kind of design evolution you only get when someone prioritizes power over discretion.
Liang’s voice took on that faint note of pride engineers get when they know they’ve outdone themselves. “These are the newest models in the SkyFang line. Improved stabilization. Increased payload. Enhanced targeting suite.”
“To a non-engineer,” I said mildly, “that sounds like they can carry more, hit harder, and stay in the air longer.”
He chuckled. “Yes. Something like that.”
I walked closer to the nearest drone. Its matte-black shell absorbed the overhead light. Sleek, forward-angled arms ended in rotors that hummed faintly as the standby systems ran diagnostics. A sensor dome at the front regarded me with a glossy, blank stare.
“Have they been tested?” I asked.
“Extensively,” Liang said. “Range, endurance, payload capacity. We ran long-distance trials over uninhabited testing areas. No failures. No malfunctions. Your previous feedback was integrated into the design.”
Of course it was. Revenant wasn’t going to waste a successful murder tool. They’d refine it.
I lifted one of the empty mounting clamps and tested its weight. It was solid. If fully loaded, each drone could carry… too much. Ammunition, surveillance equipment, even something nastier if someone was creative enough.
The problem was that Revenant was always creative.
“The original prototypes we sent,” Liang continued, “were part of a limited trial batch. These are full production-run units. Stronger. More refined. Optimized for your… logistical needs.”
I grunted. “I can see that.”
And I could. That was the problem.
These weren’t just weapons. Whoever controlled these controlled airspace and distance and timing. Revenant had planned to be that controller.
Now, that controller would be us. I tried not to grin, smoothing my face when Liang cleared his throat.
“If everything is in order,” Liang said, “we are prepared to finalize the shipment. Your people in Dubai are expecting delivery at the usual coordination point, yes?”
The ‘usual point’ was Revenant’s designated drop, one of their black warehouse sites in the Emirates.
Not anymore.
“We’re changing the delivery location,” I replied.
Liang’s brows rose. “Oh?”
“Yes. The original arrangement was based on factors that no longer apply. We’ll be routing the shipment to a different facility.”
He hesitated. “Our contract is with your… partner group. We were under the impression they wished to remain consistent.”
“They will receive their goods,” I said smoothly. “But we are handling the logistics now. They won’t be managing the inbound side. We will.”
I let the word ‘we’ carry just enough weight.
Liang considered it. “We were asked not to communicate with our client.”
“You still won’t,” I assured him. “Nothing changes in that regard. You’ll deliver to a warehouse in Dubai under Dragunov control. From there, we’ll distribute as needed.”
He exhaled. “There may be… additional fees for adjusting the logistics.”
I smiled. “Already accounted for.”
He looked at me like he didn’t entirely believe that but wasn’t about to argue with the man representing a Bratva clan whose reputation had reached as far as southern China’s boardrooms.
Truth was I’d already set the groundwork before I even set foot in this country.
I’d had to call in three favors, bribe two middle managers, and indirectly promise whichever god handled irony that I’d pay for this later, but the arrangement was set.
The drones would no longer touch Revenant soil.
They’d be delivered instead to a facility I knew damn well belonged to another family.
The Markovs.
A quiet, intimidating little receiving facility on the outskirts of Dubai that Dmitri once pretended I didn’t see when we’d had a joint operation. Extra high security. Extra clean records. The place the Markovs sent the things they really didn’t want customs to see.
They wouldn’t know, but what you don’t know can’t hurt you, right?
“Where shall we send the invoice?” Liang asked.
I gave him a bland smile. “Same as before. Only the delivery coordinates are changing, not the paperwork.”
He made a note on his tablet. “We will prepare the updated delivery manifest.”
“Good.” I looked the drones over one last time. “We were very happy with the initial models. We’re more than happy to receive these as well.”
I was. Just not for the reasons he thought.
He thought these machines would continue to shift power quietly, invisibly, for whatever client paid best.
He didn’t know that client and supplier were now on a collision course.
He didn’t know that the Dragunovs were at war with Revenant.
“Once we have confirmation of the transfer,” Liang said, “your assets will be in Dubai within twenty-four hours.”
Twenty-four hours. Not enough time. Too much time. Everything depended on what happened in between.
“Perfect,” I said, even though nothing about this was perfect.
We walked back toward the lobby together. Halfway down the hall, my phone vibrated in my pocket. Once. Then again. Insistent. Priority alert.
I excused myself with a polite nod and stepped out of the main flow of traffic, into a small alcove where a vending machine hummed quietly.
The screen lit up with a name I knew too well.
It was Katya.
My chest tightened.
I opened the message.
Revenant has Viktor, Kara, Roman, Lev, Dmitri, but not me. I got out on my own, but they’re all still hostages. We need to move now.
For a second, all the air left my lungs.
The fluorescent lights above the alcove seemed too bright, the sounds of the factory too distant. My pulse beat hard against the inside of my throat.
She escaped.
Of course she did.
I wouldn’t have expected anything less.
I texted back with fingers that weren’t shaking, even if my insides were.
Where are you?
Her reply came fast.
Safehouse. The one your brothers showed me. In Dubai.
I typed back.
Stay put. I’m redirecting the shipment. Then I’m coming home.
I slid the phone back into my pocket and rejoined Liang, the polite corporate mask slipping back over my face by habit.
“Everything all right, Mr. Dragunov?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said. “Just a complication in my schedule. Nothing you need to worry about.”
He gave me the kind of smile businessmen give when they’re relieved that they don’t have to care. “We’ll send you the final documentation this evening.”
“I’ll be on a plane by then,” I said. “My team in Dubai will receive it.”
He nodded and escorted me to the entrance.
Outside, the late-afternoon sky hung heavy with smog. The driver was waiting. It was another forgettable man in a black car with tinted windows.
As we pulled away from the factory, I watched the building grow smaller in the rearview mirror. Somewhere inside, more drones sat in crates. Somewhere inside, more decisions had already been made by people who thought they were safe.
I’d just changed the map under their feet.
The drones would be shipped to Dubai. Not to Revenant’s warehouse. To the Markovs’.
I grinned.
The car sped toward the airport, the city giving way to roads and open ground, but my mind was already moving faster than the scenery.
It had taken a lot of time, planning, and maneuvering, but things were finally falling into place. We’d planned to position the drones slowly. Quietly. Wait for the perfect angle to maneuver them into play and use them against Revenant at the opportune moment.
That timeline was gone now.
We needed to accelerate.
We needed to hit first.
I pulled my phone back out and typed one more message to Katya.
Get everything you can on the tower layout. We’re not negotiating. We’re breaking them out.
Her reply came seconds later.
Good. I’m tired of letting Revenant win.
I smiled, just a little, then tucked the phone away and let my eyes close as the car hummed down the road.
The youngest Dragunov might not be the scariest or the smartest, but when someone messes with my family—and the woman who burrowed her way under my skin—I become the most dangerous of them all.
Right now, Revenant thought they were in control.
But they’d just given us the perfect weapon.
And they had no idea it was already pointed directly at their throat.