The night shift was quiet. Too quiet.
Jonah Kane, a security guard at the sprawling corporate facility, moved through the empty halls with his usual calm. To everyone else, he was just another guard. But years of experience—trained in Black Ops—gave him senses that never rested.
The building was heavily restricted. Outsiders were strictly prohibited. Even Jonah didn't know exactly what was stored inside. He had been hired through a friend, and that was enough. Curiosity was a luxury he couldn't afford.
Then, a shadow moved in the perimeter cameras.
Masked figures. Armed. Not ordinary thieves. Their axes and long blades glinted under the faint security lights. They moved deliberately, checking blind spots and communicating silently.
Jonah froze. Years of training came alive. He didn't panic. He didn't call for help. He never had to.
Sliding into the shadows, he reached the security locker. One movement. Smooth. Efficient. He pulled out the shotgun, loading it silently. Every muscle in his body remembered exactly how to move, how to aim, how to survive.
The first intruder breached the inner gate.
Jonah fired. The lead attacker went down, thrown back by the blast. The others froze. That half-second hesitation was all Jonah needed. He repositioned behind a steel pillar, pulling the trigger with precision.
Minutes later, silence returned. Too clean. Too fast.
Then he noticed it.
One of the dropped masks bore a symbol. He hadn't seen it in years, not since Iraq.
Memories flooded back—the operation, the explosions, the screams. His unit was gone. Everyone he trusted. Except him. Accused of betrayal he never committed. Framed. Erased.
Now, that symbol was here. Inside the very company he had been guarding for three years.
Jonah lowered his weapon, heart steady but mind racing.
This wasn't random.
It was personal.
And whatever was inside the company, it wasn't meant to stay hidden forever.