The job was nearly finished.

Bleach and solvent hung in the warehouse air as Boris folded a tarp and Vlad secured the last piece of evidence. They worked in practiced silence, communicating with little more than glances.

Then came footsteps. Soft. Hesitant. Wrong. Both men froze. At the far end of the corridor stood an unfamiliar figure—someone not expected, not authorized.

A witness. One look passed between them, and the decision was made.

They moved instantly. Vlad swept the hallway ahead while Boris checked a small tracking device. A single green dot pulsed across the screen. Moving. Without a word, they followed. Silent against the concrete, perfectly synchronized, relentless as shadows.

It wasn't anger. It wasn't personal. It was simply the job.