The warehouse sat on the eastern edge of the industrial district, a squat concrete structure with rusted metal siding and no windows on the ground floor.
It looked abandoned, almost deliberately so. The kind of place that blended into the landscape of forgotten factories and empty lots, unremarkable enough that no one looked twice.
But Dante knew better.
He stood in the back of the surveillance van three blocks away, watching the live feed from the drone circling overhead. The thermal imaging showed heat signatures inside—six bodies, clustered near the center of the building. Guards. Not workers. The weapons weren't being moved tonight. They were being stored, protected, kept ready for distribution.
Not anymore.
"Positions?" Dante asked, his voice low and controlled.
Marco's voice came through the earpiece, steady and professional. "North team is in place. South team has the loading dock covered. West side is clear—no secondary exits confirmed."
"East?"
