BREAK THE HANDLER

The Offer

Dante found a motel on the outskirts of the city.

Cheap. Anonymous. Cash only.

He locked the door, checked the windows, and sat on the edge of the bed. His side throbbed. The wound needed attention again.

He cleaned it, re-stitched it, and wrapped it tight.

Then he pulled out his phone.

Naomi had sent three messages. All urgent.

"Viktor's men are everywhere. They're looking for you."

"Sasha wants a meeting. She says it's about the prisoners."

"Aldrich is lying about the surgery. Webb told her."

Dante read them twice. Then he called Naomi.

She answered on the first ring. "Where are you?"

"Safe. What do you know about the surgery?"

"Aldrich doesn't have a surgeon. He has a kill team. The meeting tomorrow is a setup. They're going to put you down the moment you walk in."

Dante's jaw tightened. He expected as much. Aldrich's offer was too clean. Too easy.

"What about Sasha?"

"She says she knows where the prisoners are. The real location. Not the black site Aldrich mentioned."

Dante considered it. Sasha was dangerous. Unpredictable. But she had resources. And she wanted Viktor's operation to fail.

"Set up the meeting," he said. "I'll talk to her."

"Tonight?"

"Now."

Naomi gave him an address. A warehouse on the east side. Neutral ground.

Dante hung up and checked his weapon. Full magazine. Two spares.

He left the motel and walked into the night.

The warehouse was dark. Abandoned. The kind of place where deals happened off the record.

Dante entered through a side door. Moved through the shadows.

Sasha Kral stood in the center of the open floor, arms crossed. She was alone.

"You came," she said.

"I need information."

"And I need your help." She walked toward him. "Aldrich is moving the prisoners tomorrow. Not to a black site. To a private airfield. They're being flown out of the country."

"Where?"

"An island. The network's headquarters. Once they're there, they disappear forever."

Dante's pulse quickened. "When?"

"0500. The airfield is thirty miles north. Viktor is handling the transport. Webb is coordinating the security."

"Tell me something I don't know."

Sasha smiled. "Aldrich isn't just a politician. He's the founder. He built the network from the ground up. Every death you've ever caused, every job you've ever done—it all traces back to him."

Dante already suspected that. But hearing it confirmed changed something.

"You want me to kill him," he said.

"I want you to stop the transport. Kill Aldrich if you have to. But the prisoners come first. If they reach that island, the network wins."

"And what do you get?"

Sasha's eyes hardened. "Freedom. Viktor is a liability. Webb is a liability. If they're eliminated, I take over the operation. I control the network from the inside."

"You want to replace them."

"I want to survive." She stepped closer. "You and I aren't so different, Cross. We both do what we have to. The only difference is I'm honest about it."

Dante studied her. There was no warmth in her eyes. No hesitation. She was a predator, pure and simple.

But she was also right. They weren't so different.

"The airfield," he said. "What's the security layout?"

Sasha pulled out a tablet. Displayed a schematic. "Two gates. Eight guards. One control tower. Viktor will be on site. Webb too, probably."

"How many prisoners?"

"Seven. The same ones. They're being kept in a transport vehicle until the plane arrives."

Dante studied the schematic. Memorized the entry points. The patrol routes. The blind spots.

"This is a suicide mission," he said.

"Most good ones are."

He looked up. "If I do this, I need something in return."

Sasha raised an eyebrow. "Name it."

"Access to the network's files. Everything. Financial records. Communications. The evidence Gary found. I want it all."

She considered him. "And if I refuse?"

"Then you don't get my help. And you don't get Aldrich."

Sasha smiled again. Cold and sharp. "You drive a hard bargain, Cross. Fine. You get the files. In exchange, you get me Aldrich's head."

Dante nodded. "We have a deal."

He turned to leave.

"Cross." Her voice stopped him. "One more thing."

He looked back.

"Naomi. She's not the only one who's been feeding Webb information. There's someone else in your circle. Closer than you think."

Dante's blood went cold. "Who?"

"I don't know. But Webb told Viktor that he had a second source. Someone who knows your movements. Your plans."

Dante's mind raced. Gary was dead. Naomi was compromised but now loyal. The others were dead or scattered.

Who else?

"If I find out who it is," he said, "I'll deal with them myself."

Sasha nodded. "Make sure you do. Trust is expensive, Cross. And you're running out of currency."

He left the warehouse. The night air was cold against his skin.

A second source. Someone close. Someone who knew everything.

His hand went to his weapon. He scanned the shadows.

No one was there. But the paranoia was already blooming.

He had twelve hours until the airfield. Twelve hours to plan. To prepare. To survive.

And somewhere in the dark, a traitor was watching. Waiting for their moment.

Dante walked faster.

The countdown continued.

---

How far will you go to save the prisoners when you know the traitor is already inside your circle?