The Georgetown warehouse district smelled like rust, rain, and bad decisions waiting to happen.
I balanced on the fire escape's narrow platform, watching Silver Claw operatives move through the shadows below like hungry spiders. The old maritime shipping facility stretched out before me—broken windows, corroded metal siding, the kind of abandoned industrial wasteland where screams got swallowed by wind and distance.
Perfect for an ambush. Too bad for them I wasn't planning to be the victim.
"Three vehicles, skeleton crew air support, textbook extraction setup," Jake's voice crackled through my earpiece from his perch on the adjacent building. "They're expecting Little Red Riding Hood to walk right into grandma's house."
