Location: Tavara – Damien's War Room, Private Estate
The storm outside had faded, but inside Damien's war room, the tension was relentless. Screens flickered with intercepted messages, surveillance feeds, and encrypted chatter.
Damien stood over the central console, eyes sharp, fingers flying over the keyboard.
"Logan, run every link from that sniper image through the database. Find me anything connected to that vantage point."
Logan nodded. "Already on it. But this isn't a simple shooter. The precision, the gear—they're state-of-the-art. Whoever this is, they're trained, funded, and patient."
Nora paced behind them, voice steady but fierce. "They want to intimidate us, destabilize Tavara's leadership, and force us into retreat."
Damien's gaze hardened. "Then they picked the wrong family to mess with."
A new alert blinked on the screen—a location pinged in the outskirts of Tavara's industrial zone.
"Satellite shows heavy movement there—convoys, weapons, tech shipments. This is their base."
Logan zoomed in. "I'm patching this through to the council and the elite task force. We move tonight."
Nora's eyes met Damien's. "No more running. It ends here."
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Location: Tavara – Industrial Zone, Abandoned Factory
Under the cover of night, black SUVs slid silently through the mist. Damien, Nora, and a handpicked team of operatives disembarked near a rusted warehouse.
The air smelled of oil and old metal.
Damien raised his hand—signals were exchanged. The team spread out, shadows among shadows.
Inside, flickering monitors displayed streams of data. Faces appeared on screens—politicians, generals, business magnates—many now revealed as puppets.
A masked figure observed the infiltration from a command chair.
"Phase one activated," he said into a communicator. "They don't know what's waiting for them."
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