<h4>Chapter 219: The Infiltration.</h4>


    <strong>Kael</strong>


    It was almost dawn when we arrived at the edge of the human world.


    The sky was turning from ck to deep purple, with thin strips of orange on the horizon. We had maybe sixty minutes before full daylight.


    We’d taken a car from the pack house—arge SUV that fit all of usfortably. But we’d stopped about three miles from the border and continued on foot from there. Cars could be tracked, but footsteps were harder to follow.


    The crossing itself was uneventful. The border guards recognised us and let us through without question. Alpha Terry had called ahead and cleared our passage. So no paperwork, and no dys.


    The moment we crossed into human territory, I felt the pack bonds go silent. That familiar hum in the back of my mind just... stopped. It was unsettling, even though I’d experienced it before, like losing one of your senses.


    I nced back at the team—seven trained warriors—the best fighters from both Terry and Raymond’s packs. Charis didn’t look nervous like I expected; instead, she had a faraway look on her face and Rhett, who’d barely spoken to me since our fight but had insisted oning anyway.


    Alpha Raymond and Alpha Terry were back at the pack house, coordinating from themand centre. They’d wanted toe, both of them. But I’d refused. Alphas were too visible and recognisable. If this went wrong, and the Collectors had connections to other packs, we couldn’t risk exposing them.


    Besides, I worked better without authority figures looking over my shoulder.


    We moved quickly through the pre-dawn streets of Millbrook. Most of the town was still asleep. A few early risers were out—someone walking a dog, a baker opening his shop—but they barely nced at us.


    We were just another group of people heading home after a night out.


    I’d made transportation arrangements before we arrived, thanks to my handler. He had contacted one of the few people I trusted in the human world who had left a van parked behind an abandoned gas station on the outskirts of town.


    We found the van exactly where it was supposed to be. So, everyone piled in.


    I took the driver’s seat while Charis sat in the passenger seat beside me, her hands clenched tight in herp. Rhett and the warriors filled the back.


    The warehouse was on the eastern edge of Millbrook’s industrial district. ording to the satellite imagery, it was arge building—maybe 20,000 square feet—with multiple loading docks and a main entrance. Surrounded by other abandoned structures, but isted enough that noise wouldn’t immediately attract attention.


    Perfect for the Collectors’ purposes.


    I parked the van about a mile away, tucked behind another empty building where it wouldn’t be easily spotted. We got out quietly and checked our gear.


    The warriors were equipped with reinforced clothing, concealed weapons, andmunication devices. I’d made sure Charis had a knife with her and was wearing protective gear.


    Rhett caught my eye.


    "Ready?" I asked him.


    He nodded curtly. "Let’s get ter."


    We moved through the industrial area like ghosts. I’d studied the satellite images for hours, memorised every street, every alley, every possible approach. I knew which routes had cameras, which had good lighting, and which would expose us.


    We took the path with the least coverage. Staying in shadows, moving along walls, avoiding open spaces. The sun was rising faster now, light spilling across the empty lots and crumbling buildings.


    Finally, we reached the warehouse.


    It was bigger in person than it had looked in the photo—three stories tall, made of corrugated metal that had rusted in ces. Windows ran along the upper floors—high enough that you couldn’t see in from ground level, but low enough that light spilt out.


    And there was definitely lighting from inside.


    They were active. Which meant ter was probably still alive.


    I signalled for everyone to gather close. We huddled behind a dumpster about fifty yards from the building’s east side.


    "Two of you," I said quietly, pointing at the warriors named Tafe and Jenna. "You’re the distraction team. Please wait for my signal, then create noise at the main entrance. Make them think someone’s trying to break in. Draw as many guards as possible to that location."


    They nodded.


    "You two," I pointed at warriors named Charles and Davis. "Position yourselves at the south side of the building. Watch for anyone trying to escape or call for backup. Don’t engage unless necessary."


    They moved into position without a word.


    I turned to Rhett. "You and Miller stay out here. You’re our eyes and ears. If anything goes wrong, if backup arrives, you alert us immediately."


    Rhett looked like he wanted to argue. But he knew I was right. His heart condition meant he couldn’t risk the physical strain of closebat. And someone needed to watch our backs.


    "Fine," he said. "But if you’re not out in thirty minutes, I’ming in."


    "Fair enough." I looked at the remaining four warriors—Sarah, who had joined us when we arrived at Millibrook, ke and Nina. Then at Charis. "We’re going in through the loading dock on the north side. It has the least security coverage, ording to my research. We overpower any guards quietly, take their uniforms, and blend in."


    "And if we can’t blend in?" Sarah asked.


    "Then we fight our way through." I met each of their eyes. "But quietly. We can’t alert the whole operation until we’ve located ter. Understood?"


    Everyone nodded.


    I pulled out my phone and sent a text to themand centre: <i>In position. Beginning infiltration.</i>


    Alpha Raymond’s response came immediately: <i>Good luck. Bring him home.</i>


    I pocketed the phone and turned to Charis. "Stay close to me. Don’t engage anyone unlely necessary. Your job is to find ter and get him out. Nothing else."


    "I understand," she said quietly.


    "Good." I checked my watch. "Distraction team moves in three minutes. Everyone else, on my mark."


    We crept closer to the building, using abandoned equipment and old shipping containers as cover. The loading dock came into view—a raised tform with a metal roll-up door. There was a regr door beside it, probably for personnel.


    And standing next to that door, looking bored, was a guard.


    He was big, alright, in dark clothes, with a radio clipped to his belt. More importantly, he was alone.


    I signalled the team to wait and crept closer on my own. The guard was facing away from me, watching the main road, probably waiting for a shift change or a delivery.


    I moved silently, each step carefully ced. Years of training in the fighting rings and going on solo missions had taught me how to move without making a single sound.


    When I was close enough, I struck.


    My arm wrapped around his throat in a chokehold. He started to struggle, reaching for his radio, but I squeezed harder. He thrashed for a few seconds, then went limp.


    I lowered him carefully to the ground and signalled the others forward.


    Sarah checked his pulse. "Unconscious but alive."


    "Strip him," I ordered. "ke, you’re about his size. Take his clothes and radio."


    While ke changed, we dragged the guard’s body behind a dumpster and zip-tied his hands and feet. Gagged him with his own shirt. He’d wake up eventually, but not soon enough to cause problems.


    ke emerged wearing the guard’s uniform. It was slightly tight, but close enough.


    I tried the personnel door, but it was locked. It was not aplicated lock, so it was something I could easily work on.


    I pulled out a basic lockpick set—something I’d carried since my days in the rings—and worked the mechanism. Thirty secondster, I heard the click.


    The door swung open.


    We slipped inside quickly, one at a time. I went first, scanning for immediate threats. We were in a dimly lit hallway that smelled like concrete and motor oil. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. I could hear voices in the distance, but nothing close.


    ke stayed near the door, ying the role of guard. The rest of us moved deeper into the building.


    The hallway opened into arger space that looked like a factory floor. But it had been converted into something else. The centre had been cleared and surrounded by chain-link fencing. Cages lined the walls. Industrial lights hung from the ceiling.


    It was exactly what I’d feared —a fighting arena.


    But it was empty.


    There were no fighters, no spectators and no active matches: just abandoned equipment and the lingering smell of blood and sweat.


    "Where is everyone?" Charis whispered.


    "Probably in the back sections," I said. "Where they keep the wolves before fights?"


    We moved along the edge of the arena floor, staying in the shadows. Every few yards, I’d stop and listen for voices or footsteps.


    We reached another hallway. This one had multiple doors leading off it. I could hear sounds behind some of them—the sound of muffled voices, the ng of metal, and continuous footsteps.


    The second guard appeared around a corner without warning.


    He saw us immediately. His eyes widened, and his hand went to his radio.


    Sarah was faster. She closed the distance in three steps and drove her fist into his sr plexus. The guard doubled over, gasping, while Nina grabbed him from behind, arm around his throat, and dragged him into an empty room.


    Two minutester, Nina emerged wearing the second guard’s uniform.