“I’m sure Boss Bai is fine,” Zhao Fu worked his shoulders. “He’d radio for back up when he needs it, though it doesn’t hurt to be ready at a moment’s notice.”

The comforting hand on Yao’s shoulder felt like lead as he stared across the cracked, overgrown lot. A voice at the back of his head was yelling, muted and urgent, that something was not right.

“We’re going in,” he bit out. He got to his feet and fished out the spare Kevlar vest, slipping it over his head. Before there was any token protest, his long legs were already carrying him across the distance.