BREAK THE HANDLER

The Second Source

Dante spent the next three hours planning.

The airfield schematic was burned into his memory. Entry points. Guard rotations. Vehicle positions. He traced the routes, calculated the angles, and marked the kill zones.

But another problem gnawed at him.

The second source. Someone close. Someone who knew his movements.

He ran through the list of people who knew about the airfield meeting. Sasha. Naomi. Himself.

No one else.

Unless Sasha was lying. Or Naomi was still playing both sides.

He pushed the thought aside. Paranoia was useful. But it could also get him killed.

His phone buzzed. Naomi.

"Viktor's men are moving. They're headed to the airfield early. Something changed."

Dante's pulse quickened. "When?"

"Now. I'm watching them from a rooftop. They're transporting something. Heavy crates."

"Crates?"

"Not prisoners. Equipment. Weapons maybe. Webb is with them."

Dante's mind raced. If Webb was moving equipment, the transfer was accelerating. The timeline was shrinking.

"Stay on them," he said. "I'm coming to you."

He grabbed his gear and left the motel.

Twenty minutes later, he joined Naomi on the rooftop. She handed him binoculars.

The convoy was below. Three trucks. Two SUVs. Twenty men.

Viktor stood near the lead truck, barking orders. Webb was there too, talking on his phone.

Dante zoomed in. The crates were being loaded into the trucks. Heavy. Military grade.

"Those aren't weapons," he said. "They're too big. Too many."

"What are they?"

Dante lowered the binoculars. "Holding cells. They're moving the prisoners now. Not tomorrow. Tonight."

Naomi's face went pale. "They're early."

"Someone tipped them off. Told them I was coming."

He turned to her. "Who else knows about our plan?"

No one. You. Me. Sasha."

Dante's jaw tightened. Sasha could have betrayed him. Or someone else was watching. Listening.

"Stay here," he said. "I'm going after them."

"Alone?"

"I don't have a choice."

He descended the fire escape. Hit the ground running.

The convoy was moving, heading north toward the airfield. Dante followed in the shadows, using the buildings as cover.

The trucks were fast. He pushed harder, ignoring the burn in his legs.

The airfield appeared ahead. A private airstrip surrounded by chain-link fence. The convoy passed through the gate without stopping.

Dante found a gap in the fence and slipped through.

He moved toward the main hangar. The trucks were unloading. Men carried the crates toward a waiting plane.

A private jet. Engines already warm.

The prisoners were inside the crates. Seven of them. Being loaded like cargo.

Dante raised his weapon. Counted guards. Twelve. Too many for a direct assault.

But he had one advantage. They didn't know he was there.

He crept to the edge of the hangar. Peered around the corner.

Viktor was on the tarmac, supervising the loading. Webb stood nearby, phone pressed to his ear.

He was talking to someone. Dante strained to hear.

"...confirmed. He's here. Following the convoy. I'll handle it."

A pause.

"No. Don't send backup. I want him alive. He knows where the evidence is."

Dante's blood went cold.

Webb wanted him alive. Not dead. He needed the flash drive.

Dante backed away from the corner. His mind raced.

He could attack now. Take out as many as possible. Maybe free the prisoners.

But Webb was waiting for him. Expecting him.

The traitor. The second source. Someone had told Webb he was coming.

Dante glanced around the hangar. The shadows were deep. The men were focused on the loading.

He had one chance.

He circled around the hangar to the rear. Found a service door. Unlocked.

He slipped inside.

The interior was dark. Filled with equipment. He moved through it, silent.

The prisoners' crates were near the rear loading bay. One guard stood watch.

Dante took him down with a chokehold. Dragged him into the shadows.

He found the crate controls. Unlocked them.

The prisoners emerged. Seven faces. Terrified. Grateful.

He motioned them toward the service door. "Move. Quiet. Don't stop."

They obeyed. Dante followed, covering their retreat.

But as he reached the door, a voice stopped him.

"Cross. I knew you'd come."

Dante turned.

Marcus Webb stood in the hangar entrance. Weapon aimed. His face calm.

"You tipped them off," Dante said.

"Of course. I needed to know if you'd take the bait. You're predictable."

Dante's grip tightened on his weapon. "The prisoners are already gone."

"They're not. They're still on the airfield. And they'll be dead the moment you take another step."

Dante stared at the man who'd ruined his life. The handler who'd turned him into a weapon.

"You've been using me for years," Dante said.

"Training you. Molding you. You were the best cleaner I ever had. Loyal. Efficient. Believable."

"And now?"

"Now you're a liability. You know too much. You've seen too much." Webb's finger tightened on the trigger. "But you still have the evidence. The flash drive. Give it to me, and I'll let the prisoners live."

Dante shook his head. "You'll kill them anyway."

"Maybe. But at least you'll know you tried."

Dante's hand moved to his weapon. Webb mirrored the motion.

They stood in silence. Two men who'd once trusted each other.

"I loved you like a son," Webb said. "Did you know that?"

Dante didn't answer.

"That's why I'm giving you this chance. Walk away. Disappear. I'll tell Aldrich you died. You can have your life back."

"And the prisoners?"

"Are not your concern."

Dante's jaw tightened. "They're all I have left."

Webb smiled. "Then you're already dead."

He fired.

Dante dove to the side. The bullet missed his head by inches.

He rolled, came up firing. The shots went wide.

Webb retreated behind a crate. Returned fire.

Dante sprinted for the service door. Bullets chased him.

He burst outside. The prisoners were gone. Naomi must have led them away.

He ran toward the fence. Webb's men were converging.

He vaulted the barrier. Hit the ground running.

Behind him, the airfield erupted in chaos. Shouts. Gunfire. Webb shouting orders.

Dante didn't stop.

He reached the city limits and collapsed in an alley. His heart pounded. His wound had reopened.

He'd saved the prisoners. Barely.

But Webb was still alive. The network was still intact.

And the traitor was still out there.

Dante pulled out his phone. Sent a message to Naomi.

"They're safe. I'll find you. We need to talk."

He didn't mention the traitor. Not yet.

He needed to think. To plan.

And he needed to find out who was selling him out.

Before it cost him everything.

---

If someone you trusted betrayed you, would you be able to pull the trigger?