Elena.

“Marcus, secure the vault door!” I yelled into the blackness.

The heavy metal door at the top of the stairs creaked open, throwing a long, thin beam of flashlight beam down the concrete steps.

Footsteps began to descend, heavy and deliberate.

I pressed my back against the damp concrete wall, the cold stone seeping through my tailored jacket.

The beam of light from the stairs cut through the dark, reflecting off the dust motes in the air.

“Daniel, cover the eastern corridor,” I whispered, keeping my voice low and flat.

“I have the stairs, boss,” Daniel’s voice came from the darkness near the foot of the steps.

A single gunshot shattered the silence, the sound deafening in the enclosed concrete space.

The bullet chipped the edge of the brick archway, spraying plaster and grit across my face.

“Marcus, report,” I called out, wiping the dust from my eyes.

“They’re coming through the kitchen pantry entrance, Adrian,” Marcus called back from the rear vault. “It’s a sweep-and-clear squad. At least six men.”

“They have night vision,” Daniel said, his weapon firing twice in rapid succession.