The night was thick, fog rolling heavier across the old harbor, the only sound the waves lapping against the wooden docks. Eric crouched behind a large barrel, eyes sharp, scanning every shadow on the ship's deck. Every second, every step was calculated.
"One, two, three," Eric whispered, signaling his team. Liam pressed the radio button quietly, Noah crouched low, eyes darting around, and Levant adjusted his tactical gear with precision. They all knew: one wrong move could compromise the mission and cost lives.
Eric led them to the low platform, sliding his feet carefully along the wet wood. The front deck was clear—no crew in sight. "Clear," he whispered. They climbed slowly, staying low, moving in silence.
Shadows of crates, cables, and barrels became their allies, masking each step. The sound of waves, distant footsteps, and the whisper of wind through the fog heightened the tension. Eric's gaze scanned ahead, considering traps, armed guards, or hidden sensors.
"The Ferom 9 owner has to be inside," Liam whispered, eyes glued to the map lit by the ship's lights. "We can't give them a chance to escape."
Levant nodded. "Every move precise. No recklessness." His voice was low and firm, showing discipline even as the newest member of the team.
Eric felt his pulse tighten, thoughts drifting to the masked man and his connection to Cael. If this mission failed, all of HQ's planning would be wasted, and the secrets they protected could leak.
Step by step, they moved along the platform. Their shadows merged with the darkness—four figures moving through the fog, weapons in hand, bodies low. Every breath controlled, every second measured.
Tonight's tension wasn't just from real threats; it was from the secrets they carried and the potential for betrayal hidden in the shadows. Eric led with unwavering focus—this was the final mission for Ferom 9, and the outcome of the world around them could hinge on their next steps.