Stanton recovers first. “You’re too late?—”
I don’t let him finish.
“Hands,” I snap, voice like a gunshot.
My team moves in. Weapons trained. Orders sharp.
Hammond’s eyes flick to Riley, then to me. His face twists like he wants to explain, to justify, to crawl back into the role of mentor. His hands shake.
Stanton’s expression turns cold. “This operation is sanctioned?—”
“Sure,” I cut in. “By who? Your ego?”
He reaches toward a device near the console.
I move.
Fast.
I close the distance in two strides, slam his wrist down onto the table hard enough to make him grunt, and wrench his arm behind his back. He gasps, stumbling.
“Try it,” I murmur in his ear, low enough only he hears. “And I’ll make sure you never sign your name again.”
He freezes.
My team cuffs him.
Hammond lifts his hands, palms out. “Riley—wait?—”
“You don’t say her name,” I snarl.
He flinches.
Because he knows what I am now—what I’m willing to do.
Chen’s voice crackles in my ear. “Hawthorne—launch sequence just went active. Two drones in the air.”
My blood goes ice-cold.
I swing toward the main screen and see it—live feed. Two drones lifting from somewhere out of sight, their cameras sweeping the night. A map overlay. A route marked toward a populated area.
A target.
Stanton smiles like he thinks he already won. “Even if you arrest us, it’s already in motion.”
Riley’s voice cuts through the room—raw, steady, and brave. “Crewe. The power.”
I look at her.
Her eyes blaze. “They’re running everything through the tower and the main inverter. Kill it. Now.”
“Copy,” I say.
I jerk my head at my team. “Cut power. Now.”
One of my guys moves toward the back panel. Hammond lurches forward. “If you cut it, you’ll crash them?—”
“You mean stop them,” Riley snaps, voice sharp with fury.
