He punched in numbers on his tablet as he sprinted out of his club and onto the empty streets.
First Farrow. No answer. He tried again. No answer.
Second Jameson. He would answer. He had to answer, he had only been floors beneath him waiting for the signal. No answer.
No fucking answer.
He tried Jaeger next. The line connected this time. But there was nothing. Nothing but static spewed into his year.
“Fuck.” The word dragged from his lungs as he rounded a corner two blocks away from the checkpoint of the entertainment sector.
He dialed Brooker. No one answered.
His stomachtwisted, bile rising in his throat as his feet pounded against the pavement. He had to get to her. He had to stop Maximus before he got his hands on her. Had to get her out.
He forced himself to slow as he reached the checkpoint, panting as he approached the guards.
“I need to pass,” he said, not bothering with pleasantries. “Immediately.”
The officer tilted his head slightly. “I’m sorry, sir. The plaza is under lockdown. President’s orders. No one in or out.”
“I’m Callum Thane.” He injected authority into his voice. “My clearance supersedes any lockdown.”
“Not this one, sir.” The officer’s posture shifted subtly, hand moving closer to his weapon. “President Serel was explicitly clear. No exceptions.”
Something inside Callum cracked—a thin fissure in the dam holding back his fear, his rage, his desperation.
“You don’t understand. I need to get through. Now.”
“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to step back and return to your residence.” The officer’s hand now rested openly on his holster. “The situation at the plaza is being contained.”
Contained.
The word echoed in Callum’s mind, conjuring images of blood and pain and Lira’s broken body.
“Please,” Callum said, and he didn’t recognize his own voice—stripped of pride, of pretense, raw with a desperation he’d never allowed himself to show. “Please, I need to get to her.”
The officer’s voice hardened as a second officer appeared behind him. “Step back, sir. Final warning.”
He was going to lose her.
Something inside himshattered.
His fist connected with the officer’s helmet before either of them realized he’d moved. The impact sent pain shooting up his arm, but he barely felt it through the roar of blood in his ears. The officer staggered back, stunned by the unexpected attack, and Callum used the moment to snatch the gun from his holster.
The second officer reached for his weapon, but Callum was faster. The sound of the shot cracked through the streets, echoing off glass and metal. The officer dropped, his lifeless body pouring blood from the bullet through his skull.
Callum turned the gun on the first officer.
“Let me pass,” Callum demanded, voice steady in a way that terrified some distant part of himself.
The officer hesitated. Callum shifted the barrel, firing a shot that grazed the man’s ear. Not enough to cripple, enough to prove his intent.
“Next one won’t miss,” he promised.
Slowly, the man reached for the card hanging at his belt. He unclipped it, then backed toward the checkpoint barrier. Callum watched as he slid the card into the reader, then punched in a code and scanned his palm. A light began to flash green as the electric field disengaged with a soft hum.
Callum wouldn’t take any chances.
