Maria hadn’t stopped moving since they received the intel.
The warehouse buzzed with tension, a storm of controlled chaos. Men checked weapons, strapped on bulletproof vests, and loaded magazines with sharp, practiced motions. The scent of gun oil and sweat thickened the air. Conversations were low, clipped, the occasional snap of a safety being turned off cutting through the hum of voices.
But Maria barely noticed.
She moved through it all like a machine, eyes scanning over blueprints, fingers tapping against the rough paper as she traced potential escape routes. Her mind ran through every worst-case scenario, every possible outcome, calculating and recalculating. She had to be ready for anything.
Because if she stopped—if she let herself think for even a second—she might break.
And
