"He's going to know," Layla whispered, her gaze locked on Allen's shaking figure. "Just look at him. He's terrified. Downson will see right through this."
Axel tightened his grip on her shoulder in an attempt to steady the nerves threatening to overwhelm her.
The dimly lit surveillance van felt tense, the monitor illuminating their anxious expressions. The scene played out before them, a wide-open space between the rusted shipping containers, and in it, Allen stood, visibly shaken as he struggled to maintain his composure.
Layla's pulse quickened as she thought about Tye, who lurked somewhere in the shadows with a small tactical team, waiting for just the right moment.
"He'll hold," Axel said, though his voice carried doubt. "He has to."
The headlights pierced the darkness as a glossy black sedan rolled into the clearing, its tyres crunching over the gravel. The engine turned off, and for a brief moment, everything was silent.
Then J. Downson stepped out.
