The cassette recorder clicked off, its message hanging in the air like smoke. Voss was dead—and the voice on the tape wasn't from Atlas.

It was NATO.

Jimmy and Klara stood frozen in the townhouse bedroom, staring at the small black device that had just turned their entire mission inside out. The voice was calm, amused, and confident in its betrayal.

Over the radio, Graves demanded a report. Klara confirmed the kill: clean, suppressed, professional. Execution-style. The assassin had been there just minutes before.

And then the message played again.

“You’re just a little too late… Voss had such valuable information… Atlas isn’t the only problem…”

Whoever this was, they knew Hart. Knew his name. Knew what the team was chasing. And they weren’t afraid.

This wasn’t just a warning—it was a declaration.

Ph ...