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I hear it then, more shots outside the main storage. This wasn't a random break-in. This is a trap.

“Report!” I growl into my comm.

Nothing but static.

I pivot from my cover, signaling to Roman with a quick hand gesture. Three fingers. Count of three. He nods, understanding instantly.

One. I check my weapon.

Two. I take a deep breath.

Three.

We move together, bursting from opposite sides of our cover.

My first shot catches a gunman in the throat before he can react. Roman drops another. My world narrows to targets and trajectories.

"Two o'clock!" Roman shouts.

I swing right, firing twice at a shadow moving between containers. A scream tells me I've hit something vital.

No time to confirm.

Another attacker appears on my left, gun already raised.

I drop to one knee, the bullet whistling over my head as I put two rounds in his chest.

Blood sprays across the side of a crate.

"Moving up!" I call to Roman, who provides covering fire as I sprint to a better position.

A man lunges at me from behind a crate, too close to shoot. I slam the butt of my gun into his face, feeling cartilage crunch.

He staggers back. I finish him with a shot to the head.

"Marco, on your six!"

I drop and roll as bullets ping around me. Roman takes the shooter down with a perfect headshot.

We've done this dance so many times, it's muscle memory and why we’re still alive today.

“Report!” I call again through the comm. Are the others dead?

Three more attackers emerge from the shadows, shots ringing out.

Roman jerks back. “Mother fucker!”

“Are you hit?”

“Grazed.” Roman, pissed off now, spins and fires a shot that hits its mark right between the eyes.

I reload my weapon, scanning the perimeter for more threats as the echoes of gunfire fade into an eerie silence. The warehouse stinks of sulfur.

"Clear on the east side," Roman calls, his voice steady as if he’s taking a walk through the park.

Movement catches my eye, Frank sprinting toward us from the south section, gun drawn. Behind him, three of Antonio's men advance cautiously, weapons ready.

Frank spots an attacker clearly trying to make his escape. Without hesitation, Frank puts two rounds in the man's chest.