The red doors swung open with a groan of rusted hinges.
Ryan moved through first, his weapon raised, Matt and Kane flanked him on either side. Marcus stayed close behind Ryan, his heart hammering so hard he could feel it in his throat.
The warehouse was dark, the only light coming from broken windows high above where moonlight filtered through. Shadows stretched across the concrete floor, creating a maze of darkness and uncertainty.
Empty shipping containers lined the walls, abandoned pallets were stacked in corners, the air smelled of rust and stagnant water.
"Clear left," Kane whispered into his radio.
"Clear right," one of the forward scouts responded.
They moved deeper into the space, their footsteps echoing despite their attempts at stealth, Marcus's hands were slick with sweat around his Glock, every shadow looked like a person, every sound like a threat.
Ryan held up his fist suddenly, signaling them to stop.
Marcus froze, his breathing too loud in his own ears.
