Page 37 of Victorious: Part 3

Making sure that this world is worth living in for them.

Our target tonight is to take out the financial division of Javier’s operations. The thirty-second floor of this downtown high-rise feels like another world away from the clubhouse. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, Houston’s skyline glitters like a circuit board, all glass and steel.

But I know better.

Behind the mahogany desks and expensive art, behind the facade of respectability, flows the lifeblood of Javier’s operation.Money.Rivers of dirty cash that needs to be cleaned, invested, and legitimized.

Tonight, we’re going to dam that river.

I’m crouched in a maintenance corridor on the twenty-ninth floor, surrounded by my brothers. Wraith checks his equipment one final time while Kevlar adjusts his weapons, the walking tank of our group ready for whatever comes next.

Neon’s fingers dance across his tablet, streams of code reflecting on his face as he works his digital magic. “Security cameras are looped,” he whispers. “They’re seeing yesterday’s footage on repeat.”

“Elevator?” I ask.

“Controlled. I can put us anywhere in the building without triggering alerts.”

“Good. What do we know about the layout?”

Neon pulls up the building schematics on his tablet. His knowledge of their operations has been invaluable. The way he was able to hack into their systems with the help of Loki fromLA has made them a dream team to help pull Operation Darkfire together.

“Main financial operations are centered around the Executive Conference Room,” he explains quietly. “That’s where they keep the physical records, the backup servers, the emergency cash reserves.”

“Security?”

“Minimal during the day. They rely on legitimacy as their cover. But at night…” He grimaces. “Armed security, probably eight to ten men. All Cartel soldiers, all loyal to Javier.”

“Weapons?”

“Assume they’re carrying everything short of RPGs.”

I nod, processing the information. This has to be surgical. We’re in the heart of Houston’s business district, surrounded by civilians and legitimate businesses. One stray bullet through these windows could kill someone sleeping in their apartment blocks away.

“Nickel, Chains, what’s the word from street level?”

“Four guards in the lobby,” Chains reports through the comms. “Two more in the parking garage. Standard rotation every hour.”

“Slick, Scout, you in position on the roof?”

“Affirmative,” Slick’s voice comes back. “Cover fire established. No sign of external security.”

“Nickel, Chains, what about our exit strategy?”

“Extraction vehicles staged at three different locations,” Nickel confirms. “We can be gone in ninety seconds once you give the word.”

I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of command settle on my shoulders. In five other cities, club presidents are making the same life-or-death decisions.

But this ismy show.

My responsibility.

I key the radio for my entire team. “Listen up… this isn’t like hittin’ a warehouse or the Baron’s house. We’re goin’ into the belly of the beast, a place where they think they’re untouchable. Where they hide behind lawyers, accountants, and the respectability of legitimate business…” I pause, meeting each of my brothers’ eyes in turn. “Tonight, we show them that no amount of money can buy safety from justice. But we do this clean. Professional. No unnecessary casualties, no collateral damage. We get in, we get the evidence, we get out. Questions?” Silence follows through the comms. “Good. Neon, take us up.”

The elevator ride to the thirtieth floor feels like ascending into enemy territory, even though we’re going up. The doors open, and the carpeted hallway beyond the elevator doors appears like any other corporate office with motivational posters, fake plants, and the smell of industrial carpet cleaner.

But appearances lie.

“Motion sensors disabled,” Neon whispers, his fingers never stopping their dance across his tablet. “We’ve got a clear path to the main conference room.”