Dante's POV
The headlights cut across the empty lot like searchlights sweeping a graveyard.
Three SUVs rolled to a stop in front of the warehouse, engines idling low, exhaust curling into the cold night air. The property was so dark that it appeared to be completely dead. There was no perimeter lights, no movement in the windows, and no guards posted at the entrance.
Nothing.
Dante was out of the vehicle before it fully stopped, his door swinging open with controlled force. His boots hit gravel, and he was already moving toward the building, his eyes scanning the exterior, the roofline, the shadows where guards should have been positioned.
Marco stepped out behind him, slower, more deliberate. He surveyed the property with the practiced eye of someone who'd breached a hundred locations and knew when something was wrong.
"This isn't it," Marco said, his voice low and skeptical.
But Dante didn't stop walking.
