The streets of Vienna were still humming with life as Frost and Blake made their way out of the gala. The city's beautiful, ancient architecture stood in stark contrast to the dark undercurrents swirling around them. The evening's revelations had left both men on edge—Dross was a dangerous piece on the chessboard, and they'd only scratched the surface of what he and Kazan were planning.
Frost's mind was racing. Helena's approach had been crucial, but now they were dealing with someone far more ruthless than they had anticipated. He glanced over at Blake, who was quietly navigating the cobbled streets with a focused expression. They needed a strategy, something more than just reactionary moves to keep up with Kazan's ever-expanding web.
"What's our next step?" Blake asked as they rounded a corner, his voice low but urgent.
Frost's eyes narrowed. "We need to find out where Dross operates. Kazan's network is big, and if Dross is coordinating it here in Vienna, we're in the heart of their operation. But we can't just walk up and ask him."
Blake nodded. "So we tail him? See where he leads us?"
Frost frowned. "It's risky. If he suspects he's being followed, he'll go to ground, and we'll lose our chance to get ahead of this. No, we need something more concrete."
Blake thought for a moment. "Helena. She's got an in with Dross. If she can get closer to him—"
"No," Frost interrupted, shaking his head. "Helena's playing a dangerous game as it is. We can't rely on her to do the heavy lifting. She's already at risk by just being seen with us."
Blake exhaled slowly, then gestured toward a narrow alleyway. "This way. Less chance of being spotted."
They slipped into the shadows, their footsteps echoing off the old stone walls. The alley was dimly lit, the faint glow of distant streetlights barely cutting through the darkness. It was the perfect place for a conversation no one was meant to overhear.
Frost paused for a moment, leaning against the wall and pulling out his phone. "Let's see what we can dig up on Dross. If he's been in Vienna for weeks, there's got to be a trail somewhere."
Blake pulled out his own phone, quickly typing away. "I'll check recent arrivals, real estate purchases, anything that might give us a clue."
Minutes passed as they sifted through databases, their eyes scanning for any sign of a connection. Frost's mind buzzed with possibilities, every new piece of information adding to the growing puzzle. And then, Blake froze.
"Got something," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "Dross has been renting a warehouse near the Danube. Quiet, out of the way—perfect place to run an operation."
Frost's eyes gleamed with a sharp intensity. "That's it. That's where we hit him."
Blake looked up, concern etched across his face. "If we go in there, it has to be clean. No mistakes, no missteps. We can't afford to lose this lead."
Frost's lips pressed into a thin line. "I know. We'll need to move fast and be ready for anything."
---
The warehouse stood at the edge of the Danube, its looming shadow reflected in the still waters. It was an old, industrial building, the kind of place no one would think twice about. Frost and Blake approached cautiously, their eyes scanning for any signs of movement.
"Looks quiet," Blake muttered, but Frost shook his head.
"Too quiet. Dross isn't an idiot. If this is his base, he'll have security."
Blake nodded, his hand resting on the handle of his sidearm. "What's the plan?"
Frost's eyes flicked toward a small side entrance, half-obscured by a stack of old crates. "We go in low, quiet. Sweep the place and see what we can find. If Dross is here, we take him down. If not, we grab whatever intel we can."
Blake took a deep breath, then nodded. "Let's do it."
They moved like shadows, slipping into the warehouse through the side entrance. Inside, the air was heavy with the scent of oil and dust. The building was filled with old machinery and shipping containers, creating a labyrinth of metal and shadows. Every creak of the floorboards, every distant sound, felt magnified in the tense silence.
Frost gestured for Blake to take the left side while he moved toward the right. The two of them swept through the warehouse, their senses on high alert. But as they moved deeper into the building, something felt off. There were no guards, no signs of recent activity—nothing to suggest that this place was being used by anyone, let alone a high-ranking member of Kazan's network.
Frost's gut tightened. This was wrong. All wrong.
He glanced over at Blake, who was crouched by a stack of crates, his face set in a frown. "Anything?" Frost whispered.
Blake shook his head. "No. This place is dead. But that doesn't make sense—"
Before he could finish, a loud click echoed through the warehouse, followed by a low, mechanical hum. Frost's heart skipped a beat as he realized what was happening. They'd walked right into a trap.
"Move!" he shouted, diving behind a stack of crates just as the first explosion ripped through the building. The force of the blast shook the ground, sending debris flying in all directions. Frost hit the floor hard, the sound of the explosion ringing in his ears.
Blake was beside him in an instant, his eyes wide with shock. "What the hell was that?!"
"Remote charges," Frost muttered, pushing himself to his feet. "Dross knew we were coming. This whole place is rigged to blow."
They could hear the faint crackling of fire as the flames began to spread through the warehouse, feeding on the old, dry wood and oil-soaked machinery. The heat was intense, growing stronger with each passing second.
"We need to get out of here!" Blake shouted over the roar of the flames.
Frost nodded, his mind racing. The side entrance was too far—they'd never make it in time. But there was another option, one that was just as risky. He pointed toward a large window on the far wall, half-covered by a rusted metal grate.
"That window," he said urgently. "It's our only shot."
Blake followed his gaze, then nodded. "Let's go!"
They sprinted across the warehouse, dodging falling debris and navigating through the thickening smoke. The heat was unbearable, searing their skin as they moved. Frost could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins, his focus narrowing to a single point—getting out alive.
When they reached the window, Frost wasted no time. He grabbed a nearby metal pipe and used it to pry the rusted grate loose, his muscles straining with the effort. Blake was right beside him, pulling at the edges of the grate until it finally gave way.
"Go!" Frost shouted, and Blake scrambled through the window first, dropping down onto the gravel outside. Frost followed, just as another explosion rocked the building, sending a plume of fire and smoke shooting into the night sky.
They landed hard on the gravel, gasping for breath as they rolled away from the burning warehouse. Frost's chest heaved as he looked back at the building, now fully engulfed in flames. The entire structure was collapsing in on itself, the fire consuming everything in its path.
Blake sat up, coughing as he tried to catch his breath. "That... was too close."
Frost nodded, wiping sweat and soot from his face. "Dross knew we were coming. He played us."
Blake cursed under his breath, shaking his head in frustration. "What now?"
Frost stared at the burning warehouse, his mind already working through their next move. They'd lost this round, but the game wasn't over. Not by a long shot.
"We regroup," he said firmly. "Dross won this one, but we're not done. We need to find another lead, another way in."
Blake sighed, then nodded. "Right. Let's get out of here before the authorities show up."
They stumbled away from the warehouse, the flames casting long shadows behind them as they disappeared into the night. The battle against Kazan and his network was far from over, but Frost knew one thing for certain: they were getting closer. Every step they took brought them closer to the heart of the conspiracy, and eventually, they would find Kazan.
And when they did, there would be no escape.