“No suspects,” one of them finally says. “Whoever did this knew the base. Knew where to hit.”
I hug myself, suddenly very aware of how exposed I feel. My work—mylife—laid bare like this.
Major Chen arrives next, expression grim as she surveys the damage.
“This isn’t about one drone,” she says quietly, pulling me aside with Crewe hovering close. “This is bigger.”
“How much bigger?” I ask.
She exhales. “Your system isn’t just rescue-capable. In the wrong hands, it’s scalable. Remote. Hard to trace.”
My blood turns cold.
“You think they want to hijack all of them,” I say.
“Yes,” she confirms. “Use them for covert operations. Sabotage. Attacks that look like accidents.”
I shake my head. “I built failsafes. Overrides. Layers?—”
“And someone found a way around them,” Chen says gently. “Which means they either wantyou… or they want what’s in your head.”
I swallow.
“So I’m not just a target,” I whisper. “I’m a key.”
Crewe’s hand lands on my back. Solid. Anchoring.
“You’re not alone,” he says, low and certain.
I look at the wreckage of my lab, at the broken screens and torn wires, at the proof that someone wants my work badly enough to destroy everything else.
And for the first time, the question hits me full force:
What happens if they decide taking my code isn’t enough?
I lean into Crewe’s touch, heart pounding.
Because whatever this is…
It’s no longer just about drones.
It’s about me.
SEVEN
CREWE
The lab doesn’t look like a lab anymore.
It looks like a crime scene dressed up in fluorescent lighting—yellow tape, boot prints, broken screens, and Riley’s life scattered across the floor like someone shook her world until all the pieces fell out.
She stands in the middle of it with her arms wrapped around herself, eyes tracking every smashed corner like she’s trying to reassemble the room by force of will. Her face is calm, but her body gives her away—shoulders tight, breaths shallow, the kind of stillness that comes right before a person either breaks or burns the whole place down.
I stay close.
Not hovering. Not smothering.
Just… there. Between her and the door. Between her and anyone who thinks they can step into her space and take another piece.
