The teams quickly felt the tension in the air—Angel and Barry in the front, SWAT close behind, with David securing the rear. The SWAT team flanking the warehouse door from both sides readied themselves as
Barry passed David and Angel their night vision goggles. "These are dual-mode—thermal and night vision. Use the switch on the side." Goggles on."
" Isn't this expensive as hell?"
"Sure is David, but for these bastards, it's worth it."
A SWAT member stood ready with a battering ram.
"On my signal," Barry said to the ram holder, breach."
The battering ram slammed into the warehouse door with a deafening bang, sending the rusted metal off its hinges.
Inside was dead black, without any source of illumination. The air was thick with dust. Cobwebs clung to the corners and hung from the ceiling like curtains. The place felt dead, like it had been abandoned to rot.
They stepped in. Dust swirled up in the air, catching in their throats, clinging to their uniforms. The beam from Angel's goggles cast everything in that eerie green, outlines swimming into focus.
"We split up.Barry, take your team left. I'll take right."
Barry glanced at his men. He met Angel's eyes, voice low. "Don't die."
"You too."
Angel and David moved toward the right side of the warehouse.
The air inside was stale and foul, like decay itself. Their boots crunched on brittle plastic fragments. Angel's swept over tiny, grimy bowls scattered across the floor, some still holding water or scraps of food. Feeding bowls—but not for animals.
The team moved deeper.
Angel caught sight of a pile of rags, not rags. Blankets. Torn, soiled. Someone had been sleeping there recently. A gallon of gasoline sat nearby. Half-empty, most of its contents soaking the pile.
On the other side, Barry's beam caught the edge of a stuffed toy—half burnt. The men here were cleaning their tracks, which meant one thing: they knew they were coming.
Barry clicked on his radio, "Angel, the Grims started cleanup, they knew we were coming, over"
Angel's voice came in from the radio, "we may be walking into ambush stay sharp, over."
"Affirmative." Barry turned off his radio as one of his men signalled for him. Walking foward, he saw four dead bodies and blood everywhere.
"Sweet mother of God, what happened here?"
Angel and her team kept moving forward as her foot grazed shackles bolted to the ground. Her fingers clenched around the rifle in her hands in rage.
"That's a bad omen if I ever saw one," David muttered.
Looking around seeing small cages. The sight made her blood boil.
A trail of fresh blood snaked toward the far side of the room. Someone bleeding had been dragged.
Following the trail, the atmosphere grew heavier. Another overturned chair, the shattered remains of a phone—likely the victim's. The metallic stench of blood and death thickened with every step.
The trail ended at a door, slightly ajar. It creaked as they pushed it open.
Shock and disgust hit them like electricity. Lifeless bodies slumped on the floor. The trail ended before them—the corpse of a man, sliced deeply and widely, like raw meat about to be seasoned.
One man was gutted open—chest to navel—organs hanging out like someone had been butchering meat. Two others had serrated knife wounds, brutal and intentional. One of them had multiple throwing knives in the chest, pinning him to a wooden beam. Another had a slit throat, but his eyes were still open. He died looking at his killer.
David broke the silence. "I see why they didn't come out to surrender."
An officer quickly took off his helmet and began to retch in the corner, emptying out his dinner on the floor.
Everyone kept silent while he finished. David passed him a handkerchief.
"Thank you sir", he quickly wiped his mouth and wore his helmet.
"These were our leads," she whispered. "Our fucking leads."
David knelt beside one of the bodies, checking the wounds.
"These cuts—clean, controlled. No struggle. No defense wounds. They were ambushed."
"Blades this sharp? You don't get this kind of result without custom work."
David wiped blood off a knife blade with a cloth, studying the serrated edge.
"Someone killed them efficiently, but not clean. Look at the gut job. That wasn't for speed—that was punishment."
Angel straightened. "This is the work of a professional."
"A professional who's probably still in this building. Bodies are still warm."
The realization hit Angel hard. She grabbed her radio.
"Barry, you there?"
Static crackled before Barry's voice came through. "Yeah. What's your status?"
"We found something."
"So did we. Four dead—looks recent."
"Same with ours. Six bodies."
"Throwing knives?"
"Yeah, a lot. The bodies are still warm. David thinks the killer's still in the building."
"He's not here—we cleared the whole place. Thanks for the heads-up. Watch your six."
"You too, Barry."
"From what we see, the killer's probably still inside. Shoot anything that moves. And David—don't hesitate to use Heaven."
David nodded, and the team pressed further into the warehouse. The hallway ahead was narrow, lined with rooms on both sides. Doors slightly open. Most of the rooms were empty—mattresses on the floor, more bowls, buckets for toilets. Signs of recent use.
Angel motioning the group to stop asked, "Did anyone hear that?"
The group stopped.
Then—they heard it too. Soft, broken sobbing. Muffled behind one of the closed doors. Angel pointed. Her team flanked the door. She turned the knob slowly.
Inside, in a corner, was a little girl. Her clothes were ripped. Her face was bruised. She didn't even react when the door opened—just kept rocking, arms wrapped around herself.
Angel stayed at the door.
"Let me," David said, moving in slowly. He crouched down, removed his goggles.
"Hey. Hey there. It's okay. You're safe. We're the police. We're here to help."
The girl looked up. She hesitated. Then, she ran to him, sobbing, wrapping her arms around his neck like she'd known him her whole life.
"Please save my brother," she cried. "Scarface took him. He said he'd punish him."
Angel stepped forward.
"What's your name?"
"Maya."
"Where's your brother?"
"He took Michael to the punishment room. That's where he hurts the boys that make him angry."
Angel and David exchanged a look.
David's tone hardened. "Where is the punishment room?"
"The last room. with the big iron door."
David stood up. Angel motioned for one of the SWAT officers.
"Get her to the paramedics. Quietly. Don't let her see the bodies."
Once she was gone, Angel turned to David.
"If Scarface's in there…"
"He's either torturing that boy or already gone."
David rested a hand on Angel's shoulder, stopping her.
"The assassin could be in there too."
"He could kill our last lead while we're hesitating."
"And kill us too if we move in stupidly, calm down."
Angel took deep breaths "I'm calm. Can we go now?"
David sighed and nodded. They moved forward.
Angel and her squad ran to the last room at the end of the corridor, reaching a heavy metal door. They flanked it from both sides, preparing to breach.
David observed the door. "It's soundproof. Look at the thickness, no gap around the frame."
"Figures they'd have this,they operated here for half a year", Angel spat. "Can we break it down?"
"No. Too thick. It'll alert Scarface, and he might escape."
"Angel stared at the metal door ahead. Maya's words echoed in her skull: "He took my brother… to the punishment room."
David stepped beside her, his sidearm already raised.
"SWAT's still circling the other side. We're on our own."
Angel nodded once. "Shoot the lock."
David didn't hesitate. He aimed at the latch and fired two precise rounds. Sparks flew. The mechanism cracked, steel warping.
David stepped forward and kicked hard on the ruined lock.
Boom.
The door didn't budge.
He stepped back, braced himself, and slammed his shoes again into the weakened point.
BOOM. The frame snapped. The door crashed open, swinging violently inward.
The team charged in—only to stop dead in their tracks in horror.