Chapter 49

Chapter 49


The sun had not yet risen, but the highway outside the city was already alive. A large, black trailer rumbled along the dark road, flanked by two smaller vehicles that looked more like security escorts than regular cars. The trailer bore no company logo, no number plates, and no hint of what it carried inside. It had tinted windows, reinforced metal siding, and tires that looked new—too new.

Inside the trailer, four men sat in the back near the cargo. They wore black tactical gear, each armed, alert, and sweating slightly from the heat. The trailer wasn’t air-conditioned. A large steel crate stood at the center of the space, bolted to the floor and locked tightly. None of the guards spoke. They had been instructed to keep everything quiet until they reached the drop point.

Up front, the driver kept his eyes on the road. His hands were firm on the wheel, his jaw clenched. His phone buzzed on the seat next to him. He glanced at it and saw a short message: “Block in 3 mins. Stay calm.”

He didn’t reply.

Three minutes later, exactly as the message said, a white trailer veered onto the highway from a side road without warning. It moved directly into the path of the black trailer, forcing the driver to slam the brakes. The screech echoed through the early morning air.

The escort vehicles behind the black trailer came to a halt, their drivers quickly stepping out with weapons drawn.

But it was too late.

From the white trailer, masked men in gray overalls poured out with military speed. There was no shouting, no threats. Just fast movement and deadly accuracy.

Gunshots rang out—short bursts. Clean shots. The guards in the back of the black trailer never stood a chance. They didn’t even get to fire a bullet. Within moments, all six men from the original convoy—four in the trailer, two escorts—were lying in pools of blood.

The driver had stepped out with his hands raised. “You’re early,” he muttered.

One of the masked men stepped forward. “You're late,” he replied coldly.

The masked man held out a gloved hand, and the driver handed over the keys.

“Where’s the drop point?” the masked man asked.

“Same location,” the driver answered.

The man nodded. “Good. You did your part.”

The driver didn’t get to walk away. He didn’t expect to. A single suppressed gunshot ended his life before he hit the ground.

With practiced precision, the attackers cleaned up the scene. They moved the bodies into the white trailer. The man with the keys entered the black trailer and checked the crate. He tapped it twice, nodded, and walked back out.

Another masked man tossed him a black coat. As he shrugged it on and removed his mask, his face came into view.

Theo.

His calm, unreadable eyes surveyed the bloody scene like it was a simple change of schedule. He climbed into the driver's seat of the black trailer and started the engine.

“Leave no trace,” he said into his comms before closing the door.

The convoy of attackers vanished. The white trailer took the bodies and peeled off in a different direction. Theo, now behind the wheel, headed toward a secluded forest road that very few knew existed.

The forest was thick, fog settling low among the trees as the black trailer disappeared into the dense path. It wasn't until nearly twenty minutes later that it reached a wide clearing, surrounded by metal fences and guards in black.

The gates opened silently.

Theo drove in.

At the same time, across the city, Luca sat in a small, dimly lit room with three of his men. One of them was breathing heavily, pacing back and forth while another stared at his phone with wide eyes.

“We lost them,” the man said finally.

Luca turned slowly. “What?”

The man swallowed. “We lost the trailer.”

Luca stood up from his chair. “What do you mean you lost the trailer?”

“There was a hijack,” the man stammered. “The whole convoy was taken out near Junction Seven. No survivors. No footage. Whoever did it—clean, fast. Professional.”

“Who sent the trailer?” Luca asked.

The man hesitated. “Our side. From the west compound.”

Luca frowned. “What were they transporting?”

The man shook his head. “I don’t know. It was sealed. Only Raffaele would know what was inside.”

Luca walked slowly toward the window, his hands behind his back.

“What about the guards?” he asked without looking.

“All dead,” the man replied.

“Any clues?”

“No prints. No cameras. The only witness was a truck driver who passed just after. He called in to say there was a mess on the road but by the time he stopped, the bodies were gone.”

Luca’s jaw tightened. “They cleaned it up.”

The third man, who had been quiet all along, looked up. “There’s something else…”

“What?”

“They think the driver was an inside man. One of ours. But we didn’t get to question him. He was executed too.”

Luca’s eyes narrowed. “So we don’t even know who finished the job.”

“No, boss,” the man said. “But… one of our scouts tracked the trailer’s movement for a bit before it disappeared. It went off-road into one of the hidden paths.”

Luca turned around slowly, something cold sliding through his spine. “Do we have any name?”

The man hesitated again. “No names. No ID. Just… rumors.”

“Rumors?” Luca repeated.

“They say there was one man who took the keys and drove the trailer off himself. We don’t know who. But the scouts say he moved like he knew exactly what he was doing. Like it was his operation from the start.”

Luca rubbed his chin, silent for a moment.

“Any idea who it could be?”

“No, sir. But… it wasn’t one of ours.”

Luca nodded once. “Keep digging. Quietly. I want to know what was in that trailer. And who took it.”

“Yes, sir.”

As the men left the room, Luca sat back down and stared at the dark window. His mind was already racing.

Somebody had moved against them. And he knew who it might be.

This was getting worse.