On the video feed, Marcus looked down at his device, cursing silently.

He tapped the screen repeatedly, but his terminal was completely frozen.

“The loop is holding,” I said. “He’s locked out of his own system.”

“Good,” Adrian said. “Now we move.”

He opened his door, the cold, wet Chicago wind rushing into the cabin.

I opened my door and stepped out into the pouring rain.

The air tasted of rust and wet asphalt.

We moved quickly along the side of the rusted semi-trailers, staying in the deep shadows.

The gravel crunched softly under our boots.

The warehouse loomed ahead, a massive block of corrugated steel and rotting brick.

At the side entrance, a single heavy metal door was slightly ajar.

A sliver of yellow light cut through the darkness, illuminating the falling rain.

Adrian reached the door first, his back pressed against the brick wall.

He raised his gun, his eyes scanning the narrow alley.

Inside the warehouse, a loud crash echoed, followed by the sound of shouting.

The sting had begun.

Adrian looked at me, giving a single, sharp nod.