"Target spotted," Chen whispered into her comms, her voice steady despite the chaos of the ballroom. "North balcony. He’s moving."
"If we miss them tonight," Miller said, grabbing his tactical jacket, "we aren't just losing the cargo. We’re losing the division. D.C. wants a win, or they’re folding us back into the regional offices."
As the sun began to rise over the Adriatic, the local police took the Architect into custody. Miller stood on the pier, the weight of the last few months finally lifting. They had the keys. They had the man.