Raphael had finally arrived at a fitting plan. And this one was not like the sloppy, desperate runs of the past ten months. This one was different.
This one was impressively precise and calculated that it was actually a determinant that will either make or break the Rodrigo Empire.
He had spent every waking hour studying Midnight's compound drone footage bought from black-market hackers, old blueprints stolen from corrupt city officials, patterns observed from the few survivors who had made it out alive. He knew the shift changes, the blind spots in the camera coverage, the exact location of the underground wing where Antonio was being held, through an anonymous source.
He had assembled a small, elite team of men who owed him personal loyalty, not the crumbling Rodrigo empire. Twenty of the best. Armed with suppressed weapons, thermal scopes, and a single goal: get in, get Antonio, get out and all that was to be done without causing a scene.
