Chapter 87: The First Strike

The city was quiet at dawn, but Isabella knew the silence wouldn't last.

Vincent Carver had built his power in the shadows, gathering what was left of Langston's empire. If they didn't stop him now, he'd be unstoppable.

She tightened the straps on her tactical vest, checking her weapons. The safe house was alive with quiet preparation Damian loading intel onto his tablet, Claire checking blueprints, Ethan cracking his knuckles like he was about to walk into a bar fight instead of a high-stakes operation.

And Alexander.

He stood near the window, watching the sunrise like it was the last one he'd ever see. When he turned to her, his expression was unreadable.

"Are you sure about this?"

Isabella met his gaze. No hesitation. No second-guessing.

"Yes."

Breaking Point

The plan was simple hit Carver before he knew they were coming. His operation was running out of an abandoned warehouse on the west side of the city. He thought he was untouchable.

He was wrong.

They moved fast. Silent. Shadows slipping through the alleyways until they reached the warehouse perimeter.

Ethan crouched near the side entrance, whispering into his earpiece. "Guards. Three at the front, two in the back. Heavily armed."

Damian's voice crackled in response. "Make it quick. We don't want to start a war before breakfast."

Isabella pulled in a steady breath. Time to end this before it even began.

The Firefight

The first gunshot cracked through the air.

Chaos erupted.

The guards barely had time to react before Isabella and Alexander took them down, moving in sync like they had been fighting together forever.

Inside, Carver's men scrambled, caught off guard.

Carver himself stood at the center of the warehouse, arms crossed, a slow smirk spreading across his face as if he had been waiting for this.

"I was wondering when you'd show up," he said, his voice dangerously calm.

Isabella raised her gun. "Surrender, Carver. You don't have the numbers to win this."

He chuckled. "Who said I needed numbers?"

Then the lights cut out.

Darkness Falls

For a split second, the world plunged into darkness. Then—gunfire. Explosions. An ambush.

Carver had been ready for them.

Isabella barely had time to react before bullets ricocheted off metal beams, forcing her to dive for cover.

"Damian! Talk to me!" she shouted into her comms.

Static.

Her stomach clenched. They were cut off.

A hand gripped her wrist Alexander. His touch was steady. Grounding.

"We're getting out of this," he said, voice firm.

She nodded, adrenaline surging. They weren't done yet.

And Carver had just made the biggest mistake of his life.