As early as 5 a.m., the city was still asleep but Victor and his men were wide awake, engines humming low like predators crouched in the brush.
The convoy of armored vehicles rolled silently through the backstreets, headlights cut, tires eating the road. Inside, the men sat armed to the teeth, the tension thick enough to choke on. Nobody spoke. The only sound was the steady hum of engines and the metallic clink of rifles shifting in nervous hands.
One mile from the target, Victor raised his fist. The vehicles screeched to a halt in formation. Dust swirled around them, disappearing into the predawn fog.
Victor stepped out of his SUV, every movement deliberate. He waved the others to hold position and climbed back into his car alone. Abel leaned out from the lead truck, jaw tight.
"Boss?"
Victor didn't answer. His car peeled off, leaving the rest in the shadows.
