The meeting ended like all the others.
Quick nods. Quiet exits. Tension left unspoken in the corners.
Cassie was the first out tonight. Didn't even glance her way. Dina followed a few seconds later, eyes sharp but tired. Maddox took his time. He always did. No words, just one last look before the door swung shut behind him.
Jay lingered.
He was always the last these days.
He leaned on the table, one leg stiff, his weight shifting carefully. "You sure you're good with Cassie tomorrow? She's been a little…" He searched for the word. "Tense."
Rene just gave him a look.
Jay grinned. "Okay, okay. Dumb question."
She didn't smile. Not really. Just enough to satisfy him.
"Get some sleep, Jay," she said.
"Only if you promise not to run the job solo."
"I'll wait for you to limp back in."
That got a short laugh. It sounded like it hurt.
When he finally left, the room went still.
Lights buzzed overhead. The hum of machines from the front of the laundromat rolled in like distant static.
Rene didn't move right away.
She looked at the whiteboard. Aria's handwriting covered most of it—tight, aggressive strokes, full of purpose. Routes, contingencies, codes. It was a solid plan.
Too bad it wouldn't hold.
She pulled out the small burner phone tucked deep in her inside pocket. The second one. The one she never used around the others. She scrolled through exactly one contact: a ten-digit number, no name.
Pressed call.
One ring.
Two.
Then a low voice, bored and familiar.
"Talk."
"It's on," Rene said. "Tomorrow, 9:14 AM. Military transfer. Tail vehicle's the grab point. Aria's crew is taking it clean. Intercept route starts at 34th and bleeds west."
"Confirmed? No decoys?"
"Confirmed. I'm assigned to extraction."
A pause.
"And Aria?"
"Running ops from above. Maddox and Tino on diversion. Cassie with me."
"You want us to end it?"
"No."
She walked over to the whiteboard and erased one of the fallback routes. Not the main one. Just one of the alternates.
Let them think they picked the wrong alley.
"Let them fail," she said. "Make them feel it. Take the crate if you have to. Just don't let them win."
Another pause.
"You've only been under six weeks."
"Six weeks is enough," she said. "They don't question me anymore."
"Not even Aria?"
"He sees what he wants to see."
Silence.
Then: "We'll be in place before they move. Walk if it gets loud."
Click.
The line cut.
She stood still a moment longer, the hum of the laundromat buzzing around her again.
Then she walked out.
No hesitation. No guilt.
Just another job.
---
The sun hadn't cleared the skyline yet. Just that dull pre-light stretching across the tops of buildings, turning windows pale and colorless. Wind whipped across the rooftop in short, biting bursts.
Maddox stood still. Gloved hands in his coat pockets. Eyes on the street below.
Convoy wasn't due for another three hours. But he'd been here since six.
Because something wasn't right.
Not wrong enough to pull the plug.
Not yet.
But just… off.
He glanced down at the small notepad in his pocket. He never used digital for prep. Couldn't trust screens the same way. Handwriting didn't get wiped.
Exit 3A—it wasn't on the board anymore.
He was sure it had been.
He remembered Aria mapping three fallback routes. 2A, 3A, and 5B. Backup lines for case things went loud. Aria was methodical like that.
Last night, 3A was gone. Cleanly erased. No mention, no discussion.
Nobody else noticed.
But Maddox did.
He didn't mention it. Didn't need to. Not yet.
Instead, he checked his watch, then scanned the block again. Perfect line of sight. Three intersections, two dead zones, one reroute line.
Everything matched.
But it still didn't feel right.
He heard the stairwell door behind him creak open. Light footsteps. Kwan.
"Yo," Kwan said. His breath puffed white in the air. "Aria's down below. You good?"
"Yeah," Maddox said.
Kwan didn't leave right away. He stepped to the edge beside Maddox, followed his gaze down.
"You think we're solid?"
Maddox paused.
Then: "We will be."
He didn't say We are.
Because he wasn't sure.
And that was enough to make him pay attention.
---
8 Minutes to Go
The air was cold. Not freezing, but enough that breath fogged and fingers stayed close to warm pockets. Wind funneled through the alleys between buildings, carrying just a hint of morning garbage and subway heat.
Aria crouched behind a rust-streaked HVAC unit on a rooftop across from the reroute point. Binoculars up. Earpiece in.
"Visual on both intersections. No patrol presence. Traffic cam is spoofed."
Kwan's voice crackled back:
"Spoof holding stable. City sensors think there's a gas leak on 34th. Convoy should detour in five."
Maddox's voice followed, calm and steady:
"Van's staged. Tino's in position."
Below, their stolen utility van idled near a red cone barricade, hazard lights blinking. Tino wore a reflective vest and a bored expression. Just another city contractor faking a problem.
Inside the van: foam-lined crates, plastic restraints, a stripped-down toolkit. They weren't planning to stick around.
---
7 Minutes to Go
Dina sat in the passenger seat of the comms van, eyes flicking between three monitors. Kwan was on the keyboard beside her, fingers flying.
Cassie and Rene were crouched behind a delivery truck a block from the diversion turn. Hoods up, gloves tight, waiting on the signal.
Jay's voice came over the line from the base safehouse:
"Comm lines clear. Security dispatch hasn't flagged anything. I'm watching their internal pulse. No alarms."
Cassie adjusted the strap across her chest. She glanced at Rene—brief eye contact, nothing said.
They hadn't spoken much that morning.
Cassie didn't need to ask if Rene was ready.
She already knew she was.
That was the problem.
---
4 Minutes to Go
The convoy turned onto 10th Avenue—three black SUVs, one reinforced van in the middle. No logos. No markings. Just tinted windows and government silence.
Aria watched them roll past with surgical stillness.
"In position," he said. "Route is live."
Kwan hit the enter key.
---
3 Minutes to Go – Reroute Triggered
The city's traffic system blinked once.
To the convoy driver, it looked routine: a flagged gas leak notification. The smart map adjusted. A detour arrow pointed left, through the quieter commercial side street.
The convoy obeyed.
Aria watched it split off. "Reroute confirmed."
Cassie and Rene moved like ghosts, slipping down a side path toward the drop point.
---
2 Minutes to Go – The Ambush Zone
Maddox's voice came low and tight:
"Front car has eyes. Tino's up."
Tino stepped into the street just as the first SUV approached the dead zone.
He waved a flare. Motioned left.
"Gas alert! Back around!"
The driver hesitated.
Maddox walked up on the blindside, wearing a city hardhat, one hand on the radio jammer.
He clicked it.
The convoy's lead vehicle dropped comms.
Confused but compliant, the SUV followed the detour.
The tail SUV slowed, isolated now from the lead.
Cassie and Rene moved.
---
0 Minutes – Extraction
Cassie popped the rear latch just as the SUV halted at the cone checkpoint. Rene rounded the other side, already sliding in behind the passenger.
The driver turned in surprise—Cassie hit him with the taser once.
Clean. Silent.
She dragged him out and zipped his wrists.
Rene reached for the crate in the back.
Then she paused.
Only for a second.
Long enough for her hand to slide toward her own belt—just a slight adjustment.
Cassie didn't notice.
But Maddox, watching through a distant lens, did.
And Aria, up on the rooftop, saw something else.
A black van. Half a block up. No lights. No markings. No movement.
It wasn't part of their plan.
He clicked the comm.
"Eyes up. We might not be alone."
---
The SUV doors clicked shut, cutting off the wind and street noise like a switch.
Inside, it was dim and too quiet. The kind of quiet that doesn't feel safe.
Cassie yanked off her gloves and tossed them onto the dash. Her fingers trembled slightly—not fear, just adrenaline cooling too fast.
Rene slid into the driver's seat, calm as ever. Like this was just another Tuesday.
Behind them, the stolen military crate sat bolted to the interior floor, solid and unmarked.
"Timer?" Cassie asked.
"Seventy seconds."
Cassie exhaled and leaned back in the seat. "I hate the quiet after the grab."
Rene didn't answer.
Cassie glanced sideways. "You good?"
"Yeah."
Her tone was flat, like she wasn't really here.
Cassie frowned. "You've been quiet."
Rene turned the key in the ignition, but didn't start the engine yet. "You want small talk during a job?"
"I want to know the person next to me isn't about to crack under pressure."
That earned a slight shift in Rene's posture—but not a reaction.
"I'm fine," Rene said, eyes on the windshield. "You think Jay would've gotten us this far if I wasn't?"
Cassie looked down at her lap. Her jaw worked for a second before she replied.
"I don't know. You saved him. That counts for something."
Rene didn't say anything.
Cassie's fingers tapped against her thigh. Her voice was low now, just above a whisper. "But I've been watching. You don't flinch when things go sideways. You don't blink when someone gets hurt. That's not normal."
Rene turned to look at her, finally.
Cassie held her gaze. "You hiding something?"
Rene didn't blink. "Aren't we all?"
For a long moment, neither of them moved.
Then the earpiece crackled.
Jay: "Extraction team, status?"
Cassie snapped back into it. "We're loaded. Getting clear now."
Rene turned the key. The engine came to life, smooth and silent.
She reached for the gearshift—and with her other hand, tapped once against the inside seam of her jacket. A small signal. No light, no sound. Just muscle memory.
The kind of move you don't learn in Aria's crew.
Cassie didn't notice.
Outside, the SUV pulled into the intersection—heading straight toward the waiting jaws of something they hadn't planned for.
---
Aria scanned the street below through his scope, slow and precise.
The tail SUV was rolling smooth down the rerouted lane. No sirens. No resistance. Everything was quiet—too quiet. The kind of quiet that didn't come for free in this city.
Then he saw it.
A flicker of movement in the reflection of a pharmacy window—three blocks up. Fast. Coordinated.
He dialed the scope tight.
Black van. Side door cracking open.
Two silhouettes. Tactical gear. No city uniforms. No IDs. Wrong energy.
Aria's gut clenched.
He clicked the comm.
"Cassie. Rene. Eyes up—possible interference. Three blocks ahead, left side. Stay sharp."
No answer.
He tried again.
"Extraction team, respond."
Still nothing.
"Kwan, do we have them?"
Kwan (frantic): "Dead signal. Line just cut. Jay's trying to reroute."
"Get it back."
Maddox's voice jumped in, calm but hard.
"I've got eyes on a second van. Rear entrance, northeast block. They're flanking."
Aria's hands moved fast—packing his scope, switching channels, already climbing.
To anyone else, it would've looked like a job just starting to tilt.
But he'd seen this before.
This wasn't bad luck. It wasn't sloppiness.
It was a setup.
---
Inside the SUV
Rene kept her grip tight on the wheel. Cassie was checking their comms, cursing under her breath.
"Signal's down. We lost uplink."
"Probably interference," Rene said, voice steady.
Cassie squinted through the windshield. "That van's moving. Behind us. We got a tail."
Rene adjusted her mirror.
"I'll lose them."
---
Rooftop
Aria's boots hit the fire escape, heart thudding—not with fear, but with calculation. Timing. Damage control.
He muttered to himself:
"Last job. One clean drop."
The street ahead began to shift. Unfamiliar bodies slipping into known corners. Lines being drawn that weren't supposed to be there.
And for the first time in weeks, Aria felt something he hadn't allowed himself to feel:
Doubt.
---
Author's Note
And that's a wrap for Chapter 17.
Things are heating up, and not everyone's walking out clean…
Big thanks to everyone who's been reading, collecting, and throwing down Power Stones—you have no idea how much that helps keep this story going strong.
If you're enjoying the buildup, the tension, or just living for the drama, drop a comment, throw a guess, or hit that button again. Your support seriously means a lot.
Chapter 18 is gonna hit hard.
See you there.