Page 7 of Victorious: Part 3

It’s deadly quiet.

The kind of silence that makes your instincts twitch.

I scan the rows of buildings, tracking every shadow, every blind corner. My gut is a twisted knot, part dread, part rage, all anchored in one brutal truth—I wasn’t there when Clover needed me.

I should have stopped this before it happened.

Should have kept her closer.

Now she’s in one of these goddamn buildings, and I have no idea what they’re doing to her.

Warehouse 47 waits at the end of the road, its rolling door shut tight like it’s trying to keep secrets buried. The dirt in front of it is torn up with fresh tire tracks. Not the kind that says delivery. The kind that says someone was dragged in fast and hard.

I cut the engine and kill the lights. One by one, the brothers jump out of the van. No words, just nods. Movements. A shared understanding between men who know the intensity of the stakes at hand.

We exit in silence, each of us peeling off toward our positions.

Sin and I break off to the side, keeping low as we move alongthe edge of the neighboring warehouse. The wind kicks up loose dirt, stinging my face as I scan the rooftops ahead. We climb a rusted-out ladder bolted to the side of the building, each rung groaning under our weight. The metal roof is hot beneath my hands in the morning heat. After the storm, the weather has shifted, and today’s summer heat is hitting with full force.

Sin and I crouch, rifles out, scopes up.

Warehouse 47 stretches out in front of us like a trap waiting for us.

Luring us.

Defying us to enter.

From up here, it looks empty.

But we both know better.

Ghost, Nitro, Mace, and Koa are already in position, fanned out around the perimeter. Our comms crackle softly, the only sound breaking the stillness as we sync up.

Ghost’s voice cuts in, low and tight. “Got eight heat sigs inside. Moving slow. Could be guards. Could be something worse.”

Eight.

That’s too many for a simple snatch job.

This isn’t about Clover anymore.

This was targeted and planned.

Pure and simple.

And that makes me want to burn it all down.

“Movement on the south side,” Ghost reports through my earpiece. “Two guards are doing regular patrols. Armed with automatic weapons.”

“Copy that,” Sin responds. “Phoenix, you seeing what I’m seeing?”

Through my scope, I make out the distinctive‘birds in flight across his neck and arms’tattoos on one of the guards.

Javier’s people.

“Rojas Cartel,” I confirm, my finger tightening on the trigger of my rifle. “These are the same fuckers who’ve been hitting our operations in LA.”

“Which means this isn’t random,” Sin says grimly. “They followed you here, waited for their chance.”