Aran watched as the caravan of wagons passed through the gates, disappearing into the city under the cover of darkness. His instincts told him this was the shipment—something about the way the guards had behaved, their furtive glances and anxious postures, screamed of secrecy.
He stayed in the shadows for a few moments longer, making sure none of the watchers had drawn attention. They were well-trained, each one invisible to the world around them, yet vigilant. Aran's breath was slow and steady as he pulled his hood lower and turned away from the gates. Tonight was just the beginning. He needed to find out where that caravan was headed—and more importantly, what it was carrying.
Back at the underground base, Kira and a few key members of the Truth Order were waiting. The room was dimly lit, and a map of the city was sprawled across the large wooden table in front of them. Pins were placed on key locations, marking Rook's known hideouts, his distribution points, and his network of influence. But there were still gaps. There were always gaps.
Aran entered the room, his face impassive as usual, but Kira could tell by the way he moved that he had gathered valuable intel.
"You've seen it," Kira said, not even phrasing it as a question.
Aran nodded. "It's exactly what we thought. A small caravan passed through the gates, heavy tarps over the wagons. The guards were nervous, which means someone's been paid off. We need to track it and find out where it's headed."
One of the operatives, a younger man named Lis, stepped forward. "Our surveillance teams are already in place. The caravan won't get far without us knowing."
Aran's eyes flicked to the map. "What are the possible routes?"
Kira moved closer to the table and gestured to a few areas marked in red. "If it's Rook, he'll likely use the eastern districts to avoid attention. He controls the warehouses near the old docks—those would be the most logical places to stash something valuable."
Aran's gaze lingered on the eastern districts. "Too obvious," he said after a moment. "Rook knows we've been watching the docks. He'll send the caravan to a less suspicious location first, then move the cargo later."
Kira frowned, her brow furrowing as she considered the alternative. "So, what are you thinking?"
Aran traced a finger along a series of alleyways leading to a more secluded area of the city. "Here. The abandoned brewery near the south wall. It's been out of use for years, and it's just isolated enough to avoid casual attention. If I were Rook, I'd stash the cargo there first and wait until the heat dies down before moving it to the docks."
Lis nodded in agreement. "Makes sense. We could have a team ready to intercept there, but it might take time to mobilize everyone."
"We don't need everyone," Aran replied. "We can't afford to make this too big. If we show our hand too early, Rook or the woman might slip away. We go small and hit hard."
Kira crossed her arms. "What about the woman? She hasn't been seen since the last time she appeared in the city. If she's involved in this shipment, she might be guarding it personally."
"That's what I'm counting on," Aran said, his voice cold. "If she shows up, we'll be ready."
---
Hours later, Aran and a small group of handpicked operatives moved through the narrow streets of the southern district. They stayed out of sight, their movements practiced and deliberate. Every step was calculated to avoid attention. Aran knew these streets well, and he led them through the maze of alleys with the ease of someone who had lived in the shadows his entire life.
The abandoned brewery loomed ahead, a massive, dilapidated building with crumbling walls and shattered windows. It was the perfect place for Rook to hide something important. Aran signaled for his operatives to fan out, surrounding the building from all sides. They moved like ghosts, silent and unseen.
Aran crouched behind a stack of broken barrels, his eyes scanning the brewery's entrance. There was no movement yet, but he knew they wouldn't have to wait long. The caravan would arrive soon. His heart raced with anticipation, but his mind remained sharp. He was playing a dangerous game, and one wrong move could cost him everything.
Minutes passed, then the sound of creaking wheels reached Aran's ears. He tensed, signaling to his operatives to stay low. The caravan rolled into view, its wagons creaking under the weight of their cargo. Aran's eyes narrowed as he studied the men escorting the wagons. Rook's thugs, no doubt about it. They moved with the casual arrogance of people who thought they were untouchable.
But Aran wasn't watching the thugs. He was waiting for the real threat—the robed woman.
She didn't disappoint.
As the last wagon rolled into the brewery yard, a figure stepped out from the shadows of the building. She was dressed in the same dark robes, her face hidden beneath a hood, but Aran recognized her immediately. There was something about the way she carried herself, the quiet power in her movements, that marked her as a dangerous opponent.
Aran's mind raced. He needed to act, but he also needed to be cautious. The woman was powerful, far more powerful than anyone in his Order, but she was also overconfident. She hadn't bothered to hide her presence, which meant she believed she was untouchable.
Aran signaled to Kira, who was hidden nearby. They needed to disrupt the operation, but not in a way that would draw the woman's full attention. If they played their cards right, they could force her to reveal more of her plans without engaging her directly.
As the thugs began unloading the wagons, Kira and her team moved in. They struck with precision, taking out the guards on the perimeter before they could raise the alarm. Aran stayed back, his eyes fixed on the robed woman. She hadn't noticed the attack yet, her attention focused on the cargo.
Aran's breath hitched as he saw what the men were unloading—large, ornately carved crates, each one radiating a faint, unnatural energy. This wasn't just a shipment of weapons or supplies. Whatever was inside those crates, it was powerful. And dangerous.
The woman finally sensed something was wrong. She turned, her hood falling back slightly to reveal part of her face—pale, with sharp, calculating eyes that scanned the shadows.
Aran tensed. He needed to decide. Attack now, or wait?
Kira's voice crackled in his earpiece. "We've taken out the guards. What's your call?"
Aran's mind raced. The woman's attention was divided, her arrogance giving him an opening. If he could just push her further, he might be able to learn more about her plans.
"Hold position," he whispered into the comm. "Let's see what she does next."
The game had just gotten more dangerous, but Aran knew one thing for sure: the deeper they went, the more they uncovered. And he was prepared to see it through to the end.