Dane's POV:
We stop a hundred meters short of the building.
Far enough to stay invisible.
Close enough to smell it.
My men melt into motion the second the engines die, shadows peeling off into the dark, boots crunching softly against the half-cleared snow.
They fan out with practiced precision, sealing every alley, every side street, every narrow gap a rat might think to squeeze through.
No exits. No blind spots.
This pest crawls nowhere.
My comm buzzes against my ear, the static sharp in the cold night.
"Captain. Alpha in position."
A beat.
"Beta set."
Their voices are low, controlled, professional. Exactly how I trained them.
Still, my jaw tightens as I scan the street again, my eyes dragging over every darkened doorway, every shuttered window.
The street itself feels abandoned by design.
Dim sodium lights cast sickly halos over packed snow that's been pushed aside just enough for tires.
It's the kind of place the town pretends doesn't exist.
