The heavy silence of the city night enveloped Morgan and Kira as they darted down the rain-slicked streets. Their hearts pounded in sync with the rhythm of their feet on the pavement, the weight of their near-death experience fresh in their minds. The ambush had been too well-executed, too precise. Whoever was after them wasn't just powerful—they were professional.
Morgan's mind raced as they approached an old, run-down warehouse near the river. It had been years since he last used this safe house. It wasn't the most secure place, but at this point, it was better than nothing. They both slipped inside, securing the heavy metal door behind them.
Inside, the warehouse was dark and cavernous, the scent of rust and decay hanging in the air. Morgan flicked on a dim overhead light, casting long shadows that stretched across the cold, concrete floor. He could feel Kira's eyes on him, the unspoken question lingering between them.
"What now?" she finally asked, her voice quieter than usual, as though the weight of the past few hours had finally settled on her shoulders.
Morgan didn't answer right away. He paced the room, trying to piece together everything they had learned so far. The deeper they dug, the more the lines blurred between friend and foe. And now, with the ambush, it was clear they had stumbled onto something far more dangerous than either of them had imagined.
"They knew we were coming," Morgan said, his voice low and grim. "That wasn't just a coincidence. Someone's feeding them information."
Kira nodded, her eyes narrowing in thought. "Vasquez?"
Morgan shook his head. "Too obvious. He's a small player in this. There's someone bigger behind him, someone pulling the strings."
He sat down on an old, creaking chair, running a hand through his hair. "The problem is, we're playing in the dark. We don't know who's calling the shots, and until we do, we're sitting ducks."
Kira took a seat across from him, her expression hardening. "Then we find out. Vasquez might not be the mastermind, but he knows more than he's letting on. We squeeze him for information."
Morgan leaned back in his chair, nodding slowly. "Agreed. But we need to be smart about this. If we make the wrong move, we won't get another chance."
A long pause filled the room. The adrenaline of the night had worn off, leaving behind exhaustion and uncertainty. But beneath that, there was a shared determination between them. They weren't just running for their lives—they were hunting for the truth.
Suddenly, Kira's phone buzzed, cutting through the silence. She glanced at it, her eyes widening in surprise. "It's from our inside man. He's got something."
Morgan stood immediately, his focus sharpening. "Where?"
She hesitated. "The docks. He says he has intel, but he's spooked. He wants to meet tonight."
Morgan grabbed his jacket. "We don't have a choice. If he's got information, we need to get it before someone else does."
Kira nodded, slipping her gun into her holster. "Let's move."
The docks were cloaked in darkness, the only light coming from the faint glow of distant street lamps reflecting off the water. The air was thick with the smell of salt and oil, and the gentle lapping of the waves against the pier was the only sound. It was the perfect place for a secret meeting—and an ambush.
Morgan's senses were on high alert as they approached the agreed-upon location, a narrow alleyway between two old shipping warehouses. His hand hovered near his weapon, ready to draw at the first sign of trouble.
Their contact, a thin man in a dark coat, was waiting in the shadows, his face partially obscured by the hood of his jacket. He looked nervous, his eyes darting around as if expecting to be shot at any moment.
"You're late," he hissed, glancing over his shoulder.
"Traffic," Morgan replied flatly. "You said you had something for us."
The man swallowed hard, his hand shaking as he pulled a small envelope from his coat pocket. "This… this is all I could get. It's not much, but it's big. Bigger than anything I've ever seen."
Morgan took the envelope, opening it cautiously. Inside were a series of photographs—grainy, black-and-white images of men in suits, shaking hands in a high-rise office. At first glance, they didn't seem important. But then, Morgan's eyes caught something: a familiar face.
The businessman.
"This is him," Morgan muttered, showing the photos to Kira. "The father of the victim. The one who's been playing us from the start."
Kira's expression darkened as she scanned the images. "What the hell is he doing here? This looks like a deal."
Morgan turned back to the contact. "What do you know about this?"
The man hesitated, glancing around nervously. "Not much. All I know is that there's a lot of money changing hands. This goes deep—international deep. If I were you, I'd get out of this while you still can."
Morgan's jaw tightened. "We're in too deep to back out now. Who's the buyer? Who's behind this?"
"I don't know," the man stammered, taking a step back. "I've said too much already. If they find out I've been talking…"
"They won't," Kira cut in, her tone icy. "But you need to tell us everything you know. Now."
The contact's face paled as he looked between them, weighing his options. But before he could speak, a sharp crack echoed through the air, and the man jerked forward, blood blossoming from his chest.
"Sniper!" Kira yelled, pulling her gun as they dove for cover.
The night erupted into chaos once again as bullets rained down on the docks. Morgan and Kira scrambled for cover behind a stack of shipping containers, their weapons drawn, eyes scanning for the shooter.
"They're trying to clean up the mess," Morgan shouted over the gunfire. "They don't want us getting any closer."
Kira fired a few shots in the direction of the sniper, but the enemy was well hidden, using the cover of darkness and elevation to their advantage. "We need to move, or we'll be pinned down!"
Morgan nodded, his mind racing. They couldn't stay here—exposed, vulnerable. But running in the open would make them easy targets. They had to outthink their attacker, draw them into the open.
"We split up," Morgan ordered. "You circle left, I'll go right. We'll flush them out."
Kira hesitated for only a moment before nodding. "Don't get yourself killed."
They both darted in opposite directions, using the cover of the shipping containers to mask their movements. The sniper continued firing, but with less precision, trying to track both of their positions at once.
As Morgan crept through the shadows, his senses sharpened, the adrenaline coursing through him. He could hear the faint rustle of movement above, the subtle shift of weight as the sniper repositioned. He was close.
With a sudden burst of speed, Morgan rounded the corner, his gun raised. The sniper was perched on a crane platform, focused on Kira's direction. He didn't see Morgan until it was too late.
A single shot echoed through the night, and the sniper's body slumped forward, the rifle falling from his hands.