“Burned. They’re bracketing the building. Standard kill box.” Vargas moves with surprising speed for a cripple, throwing switches on a breaker panel. “You’ve got ninety seconds before they breach.”
Vargas’s paranoia kicks in like muscle memory. He reaches for a recessed switch under the desk. Instantly, every monitor dies. The hum of drives falters. Then the hiss starts—hard disks degaussing, magnetics shredding everything he’s ever built.
“We can hold them.” I check the sight lines.
“Not with twelve shooters and a high-value target.” Vargas nods at Talia. “You need to disappear. Not fight.”
“How?” Talia asks. “If they have the building surrounded?—”
Vargas kicks aside a rubber mat on the floor, revealing a steel grate. “Prohibition tunnels. Bootlegger run. Connects to the panadería’s cold storage.”
Then he’s moving again, sweeping a hand across the workbench to grab a compact EMP charge and a pair of encrypted comms. “Grab that pack—the green one, back wall. Move.”
Talia’s already in motion, quick and precise, snagging the duffel by the straps. The strap bites into her shoulder; I adjust it without thinking, my fingers brushing the warmth of her neck. She goes still for a heartbeat, then nods once—understanding, gratitude, something that lands low and hot in my chest.
Talia peers over the opening—black mouth, old brick, stale air. “That’s our cleanest exit?”
“It’s our only exit.”
Vargas yanks a small remote from his pocket. Flips the safety cap. “Front of the shop’s rigged with thermite. Controlled collapse when I trigger it. Should slow them down.”
“Define slow.”
He smirks grimly. “Ten seconds, if we’re lucky.”
Above us, faint footsteps scrape against the roofline—soft, deliberate. My instincts flare.
“They’re here.”
Talia freezes, listening. The rhythm’s unmistakable: tactical pacing, tight formation.
“You two go ahead. I’ll hold them as long as I can.” Vargas’s grip on the shotgun tightens.
“Vargas, come with us,” I say.
“I’ll slow you down.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“I’m not asking.” He shoves the bag of gear into my chest. “Take the girl. Take the Seed. Go.”
“No.”
“Dammit, Fuse!” Vargas slams his hand on the counter. “I built the cage for this monster. Let me be the one to burn the key.” He pulls a remote detonator from his pocket. “Shop’s rigged. Thermite in the ceiling. C4 in the structural columns. When they breach, I bring the roof down. It buys you the distraction you need.”
“Mateo—”
“Go!”
Glass shatters in the front of the shop. A canister clatters across the floor, hissing smoke.
“Breach! Front!” I shout. “We have to go.”
Vargas looks at me one last time. The mentor looking at the student. “Don’t miss, kid.”
I yank the grate open. “Down. Now.”
Talia hesitates a heartbeat too long. I grab her by the waist with my good arm, one motion fluid and fast, lowering her through the grate before she can protest.
