Nathan's grip tightened on the wheel as the SUV rolled into the empty stretch of industrial road. The city's glow thinned here and streetlights were sparse.
Marco sat in the passenger seat, a shotgun resting across his knees. Riley and Torres were in the back, silently checking their gear.
Nathan told himself again: You're just the driver. Just the medic. That's all.
The facility came into view: a squat, concrete block surrounded by chain-link fencing. A pair of cameras panned back and forth above the front gate, with no guards in sight, at least not out here.
Marco tapped the dash. "Drop point. Kill the lights."
Nathan eased the SUV into the shadow of a loading bay and cut the headlights. His pulse had settled into the steady rhythm he knew from ambulance calls.
"Keep it running," Marco said. "If this goes sideways, we'll need wheels in under ten seconds."
Riley leaned forward, handing Nathan a cheap earpiece. "Channel three. You'll hear everything and stay in the loop."
He slid it into his ear and nodded. No one said good luck. That wasn't the language here.
The three slipped out of the SUV, their black figures melting into the dark.
Nathan stayed. His hands flexed on the wheel, with nothing but the Glock Riley had shoved at him earlier sitting in the door pocket. He didn't want to handle a gun.
The crew moved silently, trying their best not to draw attention. Nathan could barely see them in the dark through the windshield, there was a faint glint of metal as Torres worked a lock with simple hand tools.
Low-tech meant low defenses: no keycard systems, no biometric scanners, just old locks and outdated cameras. The kind of place that never thought it would be a target.
Riley's voice crackled in Nathan's ear. "South side clear. Moving in."
Torres followed. "Outer lock bypassed. Door secure in two."
Nathan exhaled slowly. The language sounded clinical. It reminded him of radio calls during a trauma run.
Marco's voice: "Keep it quiet. No surprises."
Inside, the crew split. Torres handled the doors, Riley sweeping cameras and timing their arcs. Marco led with silent hand signals. Years of practice in their movements.
Nathan sat in the SUV, staring at the empty lot.
As long as I'm not in there, it's not on me. I'm just the driver.
The first breach went clean. Torres whispered, "Secondary door in. No alarms."
Marco: "Move."
They slipped deeper into the building. The sound of their breathing over the comms was becoming louder than their footsteps.
Nathan glanced at the clock on the dash. Six minutes in. Every second felt stretched thin.
Paramedics fight the clock. Thieves fight the silence.
"Hold up." Riley's voice cut through. "Camera loop failed. Resetting."
Torres: "Got a door. Biometric lock. Old model."
Nathan listened as Torres unpacked tools, explaining without thinking. "Power cut here, bypass the data loop, splice to manual."
It sounded like surgery.
Marco's voice stayed calm. "You've got two."
Nathan's fingers drummed the wheel. This wasn't his world, but the tone was familiar. The same tight, low voices you heard when someone's life was bleeding out in the back of an ambulance.
A faint beep came through the comms. Not really loud, but enough to make Nathan's shoulders tense.
Torres swore softly. "Failsafe tripped. Secondary alarm light."
Marco: "Silent or audible?"
"Silent. For now."
Nathan glanced at the fence line. Still quiet. It meant things were still in control.
Inside, the reinforced lab door clicked open. Riley's voice came low. "We're in."
Nathan swallowed hard. His hand brushed the Glock without thinking.
Marco's whisper carried through: "Package is close. Two minutes and we're out."
Nathan stared into the dark lot and told himself one more time: You're just the driver. Just the medic. Don't overthink it.
The last thing he heard before everything shifted was the soft chime of an alarm and Riley's voice, over the radio.
"We're not alone anymore. Plan B."
Nathan's hands locked on the wheel. His mouth went dry.
He leaned forward over the wheel. "What the hell does that mean?"
Marco's reply came almost immediately. "Means keep the car hot. Don't move until I tell you."
In the background, Nathan heard the low shuffle of boots and the click of a weapon being racked. His stomach turned.
...
Inside the facility, the change was instant. Silent steps turned into controlled movement. Riley swept corners now with her pistol up. Torres sealed the rear door to buy them time. Marco's voice cut low over the comms, all business.
"Two guards down the hall. Riley, left flank. Torres, it's your show now, crack that safe now."
Nathan could only hear them, the picture building in his head from their words.
Torres's voice came through steady, even as a muffled shot cracked over the channel. "Safe's got a rotary lock. Drilling the pins."
Nathan gripped the wheel harder. His ears caught the faint echo of the alarm now, It wasn't silent anymore. Somewhere inside the building, a siren began to whine.
The security wasn't military, but it didn't need to be. Two armed guards rounded the corner inside the lab wing. Riley dropped into a crouch, squeezed off two shots. One guard went down, the other ducked back behind a door frame.
Nathan flinched at the sound over the comms. Gunfire sounded different when it wasn't in a movie.
"Clear!" Riley barked.
"Safe's open," Torres said, breath quick now.
Metal scraped. A heavy clunk. Marco's voice broke into a low laugh. "Got it."
Nathan sat up straighter, waiting for them to come back out, waiting for the call to pull the SUV up.
"What is it?" Riley asked.
"Doesn't matter. Bag it and move," Marco said.
Torres's voice was lower, almost curious. "We're getting paid a million for this? Thing's barely bigger than my fist."
Nathan heard the shuffle of something heavy being dropped into a bag.
Marco again: "We're moving. Meet point Bravo. Nathan, be ready."
He caught movement near the fence. A flashlight beam sweeping low. A guard.
Nathan sank low in the seat, holding his breath. His hand brushed the Glock again. His heart hammered against his ribs so hard it hurt.
The guard lingered near the chain-link for a moment, then kept walking, unaware. Nathan exhaled slowly.
Inside, things were getting louder. Riley's voice was steady but clipped now. "We've got more coming in from the east wing."
Torres: "Hallway's blocked. Rerouting."
Marco: "Stick to Plan B. Nathan, standby."
Nathan wanted to laugh. Standby? He was glued to the seat, staring into the dark, every muscle locked tight.
The next sound in his ear was Riley again, calm even with gunfire echoing behind her.
"We're pinned. We might need wheels inside."
Nathan tensed up at that. His grip on the wheel tightened instinctively.
Marco's voice cut in, with no room for argument now. "Nathan. Gear up. Bring the car in. Now, now, now!"
Nathan swallowed, staring at the facility's fence and the faint light spilling from the loading bay door.
For the first time all night, he knew the line he'd been clinging to didn't exist anymore.
His hand slid to the key.