The heavy rear metal door of Leto slammed shut, locking behind Nora with a flat, final metallic click. The alleyway was cold, slick with a fine drizzle that turned the greasy pavement into a mirror for the flickering amber sodium lights above.

Tariq raised his weapon, swinging his aim toward the cable spools where Nora was hidden.

Before he could pull the trigger, Nora stepped out from cover, her movements fluid and unhesitating. She didn't aim for center mass; she fired a single, sharp shot that shattered the concrete floor inches from Tariq’s boot, stopping him dead in his tracks.

“Drop it, Tariq,” Nora said in crisp, flawless Levantine Arabic, her voice ringing clear over the gunfire.

Tariq froze, his eyes widening in shock as he recognized the waitress from Leto. “You—”

“I told you,” Nora interrupted, stepping closer, the barrel of her pistol locked dead on his chest. “A stray still has teeth.”

Before Tariq could recover, Roman appeared behind him like a silent shadow. The heavy steel barrel of Roman’s rifle crashed down across the back of Tariq’s skull with a sickening crunch. Tariq collapsed onto the concrete, unconscious before he hit the ground.

Sami Alied, seeing his brother go down, dropped his weapon and threw his hands into the air, backing away toward the shadows of the loading dock.

“Don't shoot!” Sami yelled in broken English. “We surrender! We give up the grid codes!”

Roman lowered his rifle slightly, his breathing steady, his dark suit dusted with gray concrete powder. He turned his head, looking toward Nora across the smoky room.