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Cyclone

T he warehouse was abandoned.

Just like the file said.

No lights. No cameras. Just wind slamming against a rusted tin roof and the echo of my boots on concrete.

Sean and Gage flanked the east and west entrances. Oliver sat in the van out front, tapping into satellite coverage while River coordinated from base.

This wasn’t a raid.

It was a feeling.

A gut pull to a name on Jude’s list.

An old CIA guy, who once ran logistics on black op sites—retired, vanished, supposedly living off-grid outside Riverside.

Only he wasn’t retired.

Not really.

I found him on the second floor, sitting in a folding chair next to a pile of expired MREs and a stack of shredded field notes.

His beard was longer than I expected. His eyes were sharp as razors.

He looked me over once.

“You’re the hammer,” he said.

I didn’t answer. Fuck I didn’t know what he was talking about. Are all of these people crazy?

He chuckled. “Thought so. You’ve got the look.”

“What do you know about the man watching Jude?” I asked, voice low.

“Not much to tell,” he said. “He never had a name. Not one that stuck. We called him the Auditor. ”

“The Auditor,” I repeated. “Cute.”

“Not my idea,” the man muttered. “He wasn’t a cleaner. He didn’t erase people. He… observed them. Studied them. Figured out how they broke. Then made notes.”

My pulse thudded. Was this worse than I thought?

“And Jude?”

“She was the one he couldn’t figure out,” the man said, almost like it bothered him. “All that fire in her. All that control. He thought she was a perfect subject. And when she left that site…”

He looked at me.

“He didn’t take that well,” he said.

I stepped closer, fists curling at my sides.

“You’re telling me he’s not here for intel. Not revenge. Just… obsession?”

The man nodded once.

I turned without another word.

Because if I stayed, I might have killed the bastard just because he’s a crazy idiot.

Outside, I called River. “It’s him. He’s called the Auditor.”

“Got it,” River replied. “Oliver’s pulling every record we can find.”

I ended the call and climbed into the truck, my jaw clenched so tight it hurt.

This wasn’t a mission anymore.

This was personal.

And if that son of a bitch wanted to get close to Jude again?

He’d have to come through me.

And I’d make damn sure—

He didn’t walk away.