The warehouse on the edge of Pharr smelled of rust, oil, and secrecy. Detective Caleb moved like a shadow, his gun low in his hand but ready, eyes sweeping across the broken windows and half-collapsed roof beams. He had been in places like this before, dens of dealers, smugglers, and killers, but tonight was different. Tonight, he was chasing Scott, a man who had survived too many battles, who had just enough cunning to worm his way up Don Khan's ladder.
Caleb's heart wasn't pounding from fear. It was beating with impatience. He had no time to waste. Kalisa was missing. Lisa had disappeared with her, and every second that ticked by gave Don Khan more room to tighten his grip. Caleb had already checked her house, burned, shredded, soaked in blood and gunpowder. He had followed leads through Sherly's flower shop, through Justin's broken body, through every whisper in the alleyways. They all pointed here. To Scott.
