“I’m fine,” he cut in, voice steady in a way he didn’t quite feel. “And I’m going back in.”
“Back—are you insane? They kicked you out. Security’s?—”
“Stephen.” He let all the steel he had thread through the man’s name. “Norah’s still in there. Hale’s still in there. Sidarov’s people are somewhere in the mix. I’m not sitting this out in a parking lot.”
Silence hummed for a heartbeat on the line. Then a soft, resigned sigh. “Okay. Okay. Ross is going to blow a gasket,but...okay. I’ll get you a blind spot on the west service entrance. You’ll have maybe sixty seconds before the cameras sweep.”
“Sixty’s enough,” he said.
It had to be. He tightened his grip on the wheel and pressed his foot down, the SUV surging forward, city lights rushing up to meet him like the opening of a second chance.
“I’m calling in backup. Who’s available?” he asked his computer guru.
Stephen clicked his tongue in response. “Honestly? I don’t know. The team is still in Geneva and everything’s exploded into chaos over there.”
Marshall’s jaw shifted. “Define exploded.”
“You haven’t seen the news?” Stephen’s keys clattered in the background as he switched systems. “A Russian missile apparently crossed into Swiss airspace four hours ago—disappeared over Lake Geneva. Nobody can figure out whether it was a glitch, a provocation, or a hijack. The whole summit went into lockdown. The President was evacuated. Every global intel team is scrambled.”
A cold, precise dread slid down Marshall’s spine.
“And our people?” he asked.
“Dark,” Stephen said. “All of them. Ross, Tank, Jackson, Will, Pierce—everyone who deployed for the summit. Comms are jammed or rerouted or something. Joey and I can’t get a ping on their sat-links or their trackers. It’s like the whole region fell into a black hole.”
Marshall absorbed that, muscles tightening. The world was already a tinderbox. A missile strike—accidental or not—was the kind of spark the Syndicatelivedfor.
And if Ross and the others were caught in the chaos...
Stephen blew out another shaky breath. “I’m still trying to get someone. We’ve got a couple guys who stayed stateside. But until I get someone, it’s just you.”
Just him. Against Hale. Against Sidarov. Against whatever was unfolding in the marble guts of that hotel.
He didn’t hesitate.
“Keep trying,” he said, voice dropping into something razor-edged and certain. “And patch me through the second you reach anyone.”
Marshall forced himself to breathe evenly as he turned off the highway, weaving through late-night traffic with mechanical precision. The SUV’s headlights skimmed over concrete medians and empty sidewalks, the city rising around him again in glints of glass and steel. Each passing block tightened the coil in his chest. He wasn’t moving fast enough. He was moving too fast. Every instinct warred with the next.
Stephen’s typing crackled faintly through the comm—rapid, staccato, his fingers flying across multiple systems. Then a sharp exhale. “No answer from Ryder. Or Miranda.” Another pause, longer this time. “Geneva’s still blacked out on the system. No signal, no patch, nothing. I’ll ping Jeremy next.”
Something cold unspooled at the base of Marshall’s spine, spreading outward like frost.
“Try Ross again,” he said, voice low.
“I did,” Stephen replied. “Twice. Straight to voicemail.”
Marshall flexed his hand against the steering wheel. He should’ve been focused on the route Stephen was giving him—timing the camera sweeps, mapping the blind spots—but the only thing he could hear was that silence. Black Tower didn’t go dark. Not like this. Not all at once. Not on a night when Sidarov’s people were operating in their city.
The SUV idled at a red light. He could feel his pulse in his teeth.
“Stephen,” he said quietly, “something’s wrong.”
“I know,” Stephen muttered, his fingers audibly flying. “But—wait. Landon’s picking up. Patching him through.”
There was a click, then Landon’s voice cut in—steady, alert, and blessedly present. “Marshall. I’m on comms. What do you need?”
Relief hit him sharper than he expected. Someone had answered. Someone on his side.
