The heavy iron gate rolls open just long enough for the truck and van to slip through, bypassing the main security checkpoints completely. The second they clear the boundary, Byte remote-locks the gate behind them, leaving the guard logs untouched.
“Clean,” Byte whispers, giving us a small, rare smile as he adjusts his glasses. “Total time: fifty-four seconds. Not a single shot fired. No security alarms went off at the docks.”
“Where are they taking the truck?” Jade asks, stepping closer to him. “And that Miller guy?”
“To a hidden warehouse the club keeps,” Byte says, typing quickly to scramble the truck's GPS signal. “By morning, those chemical barrels will be emptied into plain containers and hidden underground. To anyone looking at the dock records, that truck simply vanished.”
“And
