Part 1: Arrival at the Depot and the Eyes That Saw Everything
It was 5:45 a.m. in Ohio, the kind of gray, biting winter morning where the cold feels sharp enough to slice through a jacket and reach the bones. Snow blew in horizontal sheets across the Ironwood Security depot, masking tire tracks as quickly as they were made. Diesel fumes curled from the idling armored trucks, blending with the icy air in a faint metallic haze. The depot itself was squat, brick-lined, with rows of bay doors and security cameras that reflected the pale light of the rising sun.
Harper Reed, 29, stepped onto the lot. Her uniform was factory-new, creases still sharp, boots polished. At 5’6” with dark brown hair tucked neatly under her cap and pale green eyes that missed nothing, she looked more like an administrative visitor than a field operative. Yet beneath that unassuming exterior was a history most men in this lot could never imagine: 219 confirmed kills, a record from years of secretive operations abroad, missions that required precision, nerve, and absolute control under fire.
