Asa's POV
I flipped through the photos in the folder Marco handed me in silence.
"These are not The Russians." I said evenly.
"No, Boss." Marco replied. "Their crew was hit too. Same night. Whoever did this wasn't just stealing from us. They're trying to make a point."
"What point?" I asked, setting the photos on my lap as our car kept moving forward, with other sedans following us— our convoy.
"It could be someone trying to spark a war between us and The Russians. Or maybe something bigger— a new player trying to mark territory." Marco responded.
I leaned back, watching the city lights smear across the window.
"Four crates." I murmured. "Rifles, explosives, and the prototype tech from Berlin. This isn't random."
"No, Boss. They knew exactly what they were taking."
"And they knew when to strike." I said. "Cameras were down for 30 minutes before the theft."
"We traced it Boss. It was an internal network interference. Someone on our side definitely gave them the window."
"You're saying we've got a leak?" I asked, turning to him.
"I'm saying someone's selling information and whoever's buying isn't just another street operation. I believe The Russians called them The Syndicate."
"The Syndicate." I echoed.
"Rumor, mostly. There are no confirmed names and no known leaders yet." Marco explained. "Some call them The Crows. Others say they're a mix of disbanded ex-military and black-market mercenaries."
"Ghosts." I muttered. "That's what they sound like."
We passed the dim glow of the harbor checkpoint. Ahead, the outlines of cranes loomed against the horizon, black and enormous in the fog.
"Viktor." I called.
"Yes, boss?"
"Take us to the east docks. We need to check something."
He nodded silently, signaling the convoy behind us to follow suit.
"The last signal from the stolen trucks was logged near Warehouse 19— then nothing. No cameras, no traffic pings and no trackers. It's like they vanished." Marco said, as he adjusted his cufflinks, glancing at his tablet.
"Nothing ever vanishes." I said quietly. "There's always a trace."
"Yes, Boss." He nodded in submission. "We'll find it."
The car slowed as we reached the docks and came to a halt. Marco stepped out first and then I followed.
Viktor stayed behind the wheel, keeping the engine running. And the others fanned out, checking the perimeter.
"See that?" Marco pointed to a patch of asphalt where the tracks overlapped. "Double axle. Heavy load. Same tread pattern as our transport trucks."
"Which means they didn't use new vehicles." I said, crouching to look closer. "They used ours."
"Someone inside the network." He gave a single grim nod.
"Who?"
"We're narrowing it down, Boss. Two dock supervisors, three loaders, and one of the customs officers recently went missing. Their phones have been switched off since last night."
"Are they dead or they're hiding?" I asked coldly.
"Either way, they seem guilty." Marco answered.
"What's The Russians' response?" I rose, looking out scanning the perimeter.
"They're simply watching, Boss." Marco responded. "They're probably nervous, but not stupid enough to move first. Their boss sent word. He says if we find the Syndicate first, we should share intel."
"To share intel— That's rich." I let out a short laugh.
"That's what I told him, Boss." Marco smirked faintly— a rare sight for me to see.
"Let's go." I said, turning to toward Viktor.
We got back in the car as the rain began to hit harder, streaking across the windshield. Viktor pulled away from the docks, our convoy trailing behind.
"Any chatter from our sources in Marseille or Naples?" I asked.
"Marseille's gone quiet. But Naples—" Marco stopped mid-sentence, eyes flicking to the side mirror.
"Boss. We've got company."
I looked over my shoulder.
Two black SUVs had appeared behind the convoy— no plates. The kind of vehicles that didn't belong to anyone you'd want to meet at night.
"Viktor," I said evenly. "speed up."
The sedan accelerated, engines from the escort cars matching the pace.
"They're closing in..." Marco said in a tense voice, reaching for his gun.
"Ready the men!" I ordered.
Within seconds, our backup cars adjusted formation. One shifting to flank the rear, another pulling ahead to block off the main road.
Then it started. The sharp crack of gunfire, cutting through the quiet of the night.
The rear window shattered, spraying glass across the seat and our shoulders. Viktor swerved instinctively and the tires screeched against wet asphalt.
"Ambush!" Marco barked.
"Keep steady!" I said ordered, pulling my gun from the side holster and shooting back.
Bullets tore through the night, ricocheting off metal. The convoy returned fire, flashes lighting up the rain.
One of the enemy SUVs tried to ram the back car. It failed and flipped, colliding with a barrier in a burst of flame.
"They're professionals!" Marco pointed.
I glanced at the mirror to access the attackers.Their formation was precise— probably military. Whoever they were, this wasn't a street job.
"Viktor, right!" I shouted.
He turned hard, the car fishtailing into a narrow industrial lane between two warehouses. The convoy followed, bullets sparking off corrugated metal walls.
And then there was silence. The gunfire had stopped coming.
We slowed, cautiously, pulling over to access damages. Steam rose from the engines. The rain had turned the world into a blur of gray and smoke.
"They're gone." Marco said, catching his breath.
"No." I said, eyes scanning the side street. "They pulled back. This wasn't an attack. This was a test."
"What are they testing?" He frowned.
"Our firepower and how we move when cornered." I stated.
"They're gathering intel on us now?" Marco's jaw tightened.
"Then they've just made a very big mistake." I said, finally leaning back, brushing shards of glass off my clothes and putting my gun back into its holster.
"We'll find them, Boss." Marco exhaled, nodding once.
"Start with the insignia on the man in this photo." I said, handing him one of the pictures from the folder. "The man with the triple-triangle symbol on his right arm. Pull every string you can. I want a name, a location, and a body on my table before the week ends."
"Understood, Boss." Marco said, tucking the photo back into the file after glancing at the face.