The SWAT team moved fast.
In the early morning fog, armored trucks blocked the perimeter of a quiet suburban house. Infrared scopes tracked every movement inside. A drone buzzed overhead like a silent hornet.
Inside the house, one of Santos' lower-tier accountants — Carl Vega — was still in his pajamas when the front door exploded inward.
"Federal warrant! Get down!"
Vega hit the floor instantly, hands behind his head.
Agents swept through the house, seizing hard drives, laptops, burner phones, ledgers. It was the first open move against Santos' operation — a calculated strike designed to rattle the organization and test how far their moles extended.
By 7:00 AM, Vega was already in an interrogation room.
By 8:00 AM, the phone calls began.
Back at the safehouse, Duncan delivered the report grimly.
"Vega's singing," he said. "He's terrified. Santos ordered two hits last month to cover up arms shipments."
Daniela scanned the files.
"International buyers?"
"Both foreign defense contractors. If this sticks, Santos could face federal conspiracy charges."
Eleanor, arms crossed, wasn't celebrating.
"It won't stick. Not yet."
Duncan raised an eyebrow. "You don't think Vega's testimony is enough?"
"It's too early. Santos always plans two moves ahead."
Leo nodded nervously. "He won't take this sitting down."
The tension thickened between them. They all knew what was coming.
That night, Leo left the safehouse to meet his contact — a nervous runner from Santos' network who had hinted at flipping.
The meeting place was neutral: an abandoned train station near the docks.
Leo waited alone beneath the broken clock tower, breath clouding in the cold air. His contact was late.
Too late.
Suddenly, a pair of headlights flared in the distance. An unmarked black SUV roared toward him.
Leo froze.
The SUV skidded to a stop and three masked men spilled out, weapons drawn.
"No witnesses," one of them muttered.
Leo ran.
Bullets ricocheted off rusted metal beams as he sprinted into the shadows. His pulse hammered in his ears. Every footstep felt like it would be his last.
He managed to squeeze between two derelict shipping containers and dive for cover.
Sirens wailed in the distance.
The masked men retreated.
Leo lay there, gasping, heart pounding as police cruisers lit up the night sky.
Back at the safehouse, Leo sat on the couch, still shaking.
"They knew," he whispered. "They knew where I was."
Eleanor clenched her fists. "Which means they're watching everything."
Daniela rubbed Leo's shoulder, trying to calm him.
"This wasn't a random hit," Duncan said. "They wanted to send a message. To all of us."
Eleanor's voice was sharp now. "Santos is tightening the net. He's testing how far we're willing to go."
"And Kayleigh?" Daniela asked quietly.
Duncan shook his head. "Still silent. Which is worse."
In prison, Kayleigh received Ruiz's secret update.
"They missed Silva," Ruiz said. "But it shook him."
"Good," Kayleigh whispered.
"And the federal strike?"
"Calculated. But premature. Santos is already adjusting."
Kayleigh folded her hands, calm as ever.
"That's the problem with pressure," she said softly. "It creates cracks. And cracks make people desperate."
Ruiz hesitated. "Santos wants permission to escalate."
Kayleigh's smile was faint but vicious.
"Let him. The bigger the flame, the bigger the burn when it collapses."
Later that night, Eleanor stepped outside the safehouse for air. The weight of everything — Leo's near-death, Santos' growing aggression, Kayleigh's invisible hand — was suffocating.
Daniela followed quietly, standing beside her.
"You okay?" Daniela asked softly.
Eleanor didn't answer at first.
"This was supposed to be the end of it," Eleanor finally whispered. "We took Kayleigh down. We paid for it. We lost so much. And still..."
Daniela took Eleanor's hand gently. "We'll finish this."
Suddenly, Eleanor's phone buzzed.
A text message.
Unknown number.
One image.
Her younger sister, Ella — walking out of her apartment, unaware she was being watched.
Below it, one line of text:
"Stay out of this. Final warning."
Eleanor's chest went tight.
Daniela saw the screen — her expression shifting instantly from concern to rage.
"They crossed a line."
"They just started a war," Eleanor whispered.
.
.
.
.
.
To be continued