Ah, like Frost, that must be Sawyer’s nickname. Or is it a call sign? I shake my head.
"Yes. Everything." I open my shiny new laptop. "Membership lists, chemical compositions, target locations, timeline. Nathan encrypted it, but I've broken most of it."
"Our tech team can handle the rest," CJ says.
"What?" I look to Sawyer, then back to CJ. "No. I've been inside Nathan's head for three years. I know how he thinks, how he codes. Your tech team will be fumbling in the dark."
"Our tech team has cleared NSA-level encryption." CJ's tone doesn't change. "They can handle it."
"Not in the time frame you have." I pull up the file structure. "See this? Nathan used a cascading cipher system that references classical literature. Your team could crack it eventually, but I can do it in hours because I know which books he was reading."
CJ's eyes narrow slightly. First point to me.
"Fine. You work with our analysts and brief the tech team."
"And I'm going in the field."
"Negative."
"I can shoot, I can fight." I meet his gaze head-on. "You need me."
"What I need is an operator who won't get my men killed." CJ crosses his arms. "Convince me you're an asset in the field, not a liability."
"I've survived three days with them hunting me. I built a dead man's switch and stayed alive long enough for Sawyer to extract me. I don't need to justify myself to you—I'm offering a partnership."
Frost whistles low. "Hawk, you sure can pick them. She's got spunk."
"Spunk doesn't mean training," CJ says. "Our teams are highly skilled and integrated. They work as a unit. This isn't the time or place to insert yourself into that dynamic."
"Then put me on comms. Tactical support." I'm not backing down. "I can warn your teams before they walk into something your intel doesn't cover."
There's a beat of silence.
"She's not wrong." Sawyer's voice is quiet but carries weight.
CJ's jaw tightens. "You're vouching for her?"
"I’ve seen her in action with trained operators hunting her. That counts for something."
CJ studies me for a long moment. "Tactical support only. You stay with comms. The second you become a liability, you're out. Clear?"
It's not boots on the ground, but it's not sitting in some safe house either. "Clear."
"Good. Ms. Cross, you have thirty minutes to brief our tech team, then you're with me." He turns to Hawk. "Alpha and Bravo are in this. Your team’s not fully kitted out, but I’m sure, between the three of you, you can show up for Echo team.
He turns to leave, and I catch Sawyer's eye. There's something there—approval, maybe concern. He gives me a slight nod.
I got my foot in the door. Now I have to prove I belong there.
ELEVEN
Sawyer
The TitanInternational logistics hub squats against the LA skyline like a cancer—twelve acres of warehouses, chemical storage, and loading bays surrounded by razor wire and cameras. From our position on the adjacent building, guards patrol in predictable patterns through my night vision scope. Competent but complacent.
They think they're guarding industrial chemicals, not weapons of mass destruction.
They're wrong.
