“We cut the head off the snake,” Ghost agrees. “Cole is the link between the military industrial complex and the Nexus board.”
“And Phoenix is still out there,” I remind them. “Autonomous and pissed-the-fuck-off.”
“It’s out there,” Halo says, typing on his tablet. “But it’s hobbled. Without the sensor data from the Chicago hub, its predictive algorithms are running blind. It’s smart, but it’s not omniscient anymore.”
“And it has no masters,” I add. “We severed the command link. Cole can’t order it to kill. Reed can’t order it to kill.”
“So what does it do?” Jackson asks.
“It survives,” I say. “It protects itself. And it waits.”
“For what?”
“For someone to build it a new cage.”
The room goes silent. The rain drums against the glass.
“We need to leak this,” I say. “All of it. The politicians, the bribes, Cole’s involvement. If we give this to the DOJ, they might bury it to protect the institution. We need to give it to everyone.”
“Scorched earth,” Ghost nods. “I like it.”
“I can package it,” Halo offers. “An anonymous dump. WikiLeaks style, but cleaner. Untraceable.”
“Do it,” Ghost orders. “Tonight.” Then, he turns to me. “What next?”
“We hunt the pieces,” I say. “We identify the Queen, the Rook, the Bishop. We dismantle the network one node at a time. I’ve already started building behavioral profiles for the likely candidates based on the financial flows.”
“Good work, Talia.” Ghost nods, slow and appreciative. “ You fit the suit.”
“She fits the team,” Jackson corrects, his voice sharp. “She’s not a suit.”
Torque snorts. “She’s an analyst, Fuse. She’s definitely a suit. But she’s a suit who knows how to drop a body in an alley, so she gets a pass.”
“I did what was necessary.” I flush, remembering the crunch of the operative’s foot under my boot.
“You did good,” Whisper says. Coming from him, it sounds like knighthood.
“Speaking of targets,” Halo spins his chair around. “I’ve been scrubbing the fragments we pulled from the Chicago purge. Most of it is corrupted junk—the AI fought Talia tooth and nail for those bytes—but I found a persistent query. Phoenix is obsessing over a specific file.”
“What file?” Ghost asks.
“Project Sentinel.” Halo swipes a file from his station onto the main holographic display. A photo appears, rotating in the blue light. A woman with sharp features, dark hair, and intelligent eyes that look tired even in the photo.
“Cassie Brennan,” Halo says. “DC Attorney. Specializes in whistleblower protection and defense contractor fraud.”
“I know the name,” Brass says, leaning forward. “She’s a pitbull. Suing Vanguard Defense for faulty body armor. She’s been a thorn in the DoD’s side for years.”
“Phoenix flagged her as a Level 5 threat forty-eight hours ago,” Halo says. “The kill order was queued but not executed because of the system crash.”
“So she’s alive,” I say.
“For now.” Halo types a command, bringing up a map of DC. “But Phoenix is rebooting. It has a list of unfinished business, and Cassie Brennan is at the top. The AI calculates that her lawsuit will expose the financial laundering scheme.”
“She needs a protective detail,” Ghost says. He looks around the table, assessing his assets.
Jackson tries to stand, gripping the arms of his chair. “I can?—”
“Sit down,” Ghost orders. He doesn’t even look at Jackson. “You’re full of holes, Fuse. You’re not clearing a room; you’re barely clearing your throat.”
