A massive boom echoes through the comms—a frag grenade.
“Fixed it,”Brass says.“Lobby is clear. Elevators are locked down. We’re drawing every guard in the building to the ground floor.”
“Torque,”Ghost commands.“Status?”
“Holding pattern,”Torque’s voice fights over the roar of an engine.“I’ve got a drone swarm trying to flank me on the north side. I’m playing tag. They’re losing.”
“Whisper?”
“Roof is clear,”the sniper’s voice is dry, detached.“I have eyes on the executive elevator. Heat signatures moving down.Three squads. They aren’t taking the bait in the lobby. They’re heading sub-surface.”
They’re coming for us.
“Keep it loud,” I say into the channel. “We’re in the service pipe. Heading down.”
“Copy, Fuse,”Ghost says.“Don’t keep the lady waiting.”
I look at Talia. “They’re making noise. We’re the ghosts.”
“Lead the way.”
We move. I take point, weapon shouldered, moving with the rolling gait that keeps the upper body steady. Every corner is a potential ambush. Every shadow is a threat. The schematic of the building burns in my mind—a 3D map of fatal funnels and choke points.
We descend a ramp. The air gets colder. The hum of the building grows louder, a low-frequency vibration that rattles the teeth.
Footsteps ahead. Scuffing rubber on concrete. Not the rhythmic march of a patrol. The shuffling gait of civilians.
I hold up a fist.Stop.
Talia freezes instantly, melting into the shadow of a large support pillar. I press myself against the opposite wall, weapon tight to my chest.
Two men in gray coveralls round the corner, pushing a cart loaded with cleaning supplies. They’re arguing about overtime pay, oblivious to the war above them.
They pass within five feet of us.
My finger rests on the trigger guard. If they turn…If they see us …
The compulsion to neutralize the threat spikes. A quick double-tap. No witnesses.
Talia’s gaze burns into the side of my face. I can feel her watching my hand. For her, I won’t kill them—lucky fucks don’t know they get to live because I care what she thinks about me.
The maintenance crew continues past, their voices fading down the hall.
I let out a breath, but the tension in my shoulders remains, a coiled spring.
“Clear,” I whisper.
We press on. The corridor ends at a heavy blast door markedRESTRICTED ACCESS: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY. A keypad glows red next to a biometric scanner.
“Halo,” I mutter. “Door. Level B1 junction.”
“Working,”Halo’s voice comes back, strained. The sound of rapid typing filters through the line.“Encryption is heavy down there. Give me ten.”
“We don’t have ten.”
“I can’t magic a keycard, Fuse. The system is fighting me.”
I look at the door. Reinforced steel core. Magnetic seals.
