Page 57 of Controlled Drift
Behind them, farther back in the tree line, Rangi and Alexios waited with the vehicles.Engines cold.Weapons slung.Eyes on the perimeter.Backup only.No chatter.No calls.
This was Black Tide’s work now.
“Rear team ready,” Kael said quietly.
Alexios did not speak.He didn’t need to.
Niko rolled his neck once, feeling the tension settle into something sharp and usable.“We go together.Clear fast.No gaps.”
No one questioned it.
They crossed the threshold.
The air inside the house was warmer, heavy with recycled heat and the faint, coppery tang of blood that said Gregory’s men had already been nervous enough to bleed.
The first floor opened into a massive atrium—polished stone floors, soaring ceilings, staircases curving upward on either side like they were designed for drama instead of defense.A bad tactical choice.Too many blind spots.Too much echo.
Gregory had never been a soldier.
Movement flickered to the left.
Niko dropped to a knee as the first man rushed out from behind a column, rifle coming up too late.Two shots.Controlled.The man collapsed hard, weapon clattering uselessly across the floor.
Ethan moved past him, fluid and precise, covering high as another guard fired from the mezzanine.Glass shattered overhead.Ethan fired once.
The man fell backward out of sight.
“Left clear,” Niko called.
They advanced as one unit, spacing perfectly, covering angles without needing to speak it aloud.Years of shared violence had taught them where each other would be before they ever got there.
A side corridor spat two more men into their path.
Victor took the first with a brutal efficiency that bordered on surgical, blade flashing once before disappearing again.Drew put the second down with a single shot to the throat, stepping over the body without slowing.
The house tried to bite back.
A man lunged from behind a marble island in the kitchen, shotgun swinging up—
Keanu slammed into him, driving him backward into the counter with bone-cracking force.The gun discharged into the ceiling.Keanu didn’t flinch.He broke the man’s arm, wrenched the weapon free, and ended it with a short, savage motion that left blood streaked across stainless steel.
Niko felt it then—that familiar, lethal rhythm.The team moved like a single organism, each strike tightening the noose.
“Kitchen clear,” Keanu said.
They split briefly to sweep adjoining rooms.
Niko took a study lined with books Gregory had never read.A guard fired wildly from behind a desk, panic evident in every movement.Niko dropped behind a chair, rolled, came up firing.The man went down screaming.
Niko finished it without hesitation.
He stood there for half a second afterward, chest heaving, the smell of cordite sharp in his nose.
This wasn’t about killing.
It was about removing obstacles.
They regrouped in the central hall just as the rear team punched through from the back of the house.
