"Thirty seconds," she says.
Movement to our left—a guard coming around the corner. Frost's weapon tracks, and the guard drops with a suppressed double-tap before he can radio for help.
Professional. Clean.
"Thermal's clear for twenty meters," Flint murmurs. "But we've got heat signatures converging from the east wing. Two minutes, maybe three."
"In," Savannah says as the lock disengages.
The service corridor is industrial plain—concrete floors, exposed pipes, fluorescent lighting that makes everything look sick. Building plans showed the server room in sublevel 2, northeast corner. Four minutes if we meet no resistance.
Ninety seconds in, we meet resistance.
Three guards in tactical formation come up from the stairwell. They open fire immediately.
"Down!" I shove Savannah behind a support pillar as rounds spark off concrete.
Frost moves right without a word. Flint breaks left. The three of us create overlapping fields of fire—wordless coordination born from a hundred missions. Frost's suppressed weapon coughs twice. One guard drops. Flint's rifle barks, and the second crumples. The third tries to retreat.
Two rounds in his back before he reaches the door.
"Clear," Frost calls.
"Clear," from Flint.
Savannah's already moving from cover, weapon up, eyes scanning like we taught her. Good instincts.
"Alpha encountering heavy resistance," Max reports. "They were ready for us."
My blood goes cold. "It's a trap?"
"Unknown. Pushing through."
We take the stairs fast, Savannah between us. Frost leads, Flint takes rear security, and I stay on Savannah—a moving triangle formation that keeps her protected while maintaining 360-degree coverage. We don't discuss it.
We just move.
Sublevel 2 is darker, emergency lighting only. The server room door requires another hack, and while Savannah works, Frost and I create a defensive position. Flint moves ten feet back, thermal scanner active, reading the corridor behind us.
"Multiple heat signatures approaching from above," Flint says quietly. "They know we're here."
That's when Nathan Torres steps out of the shadows, FBI credentials visible, weapon holstered.
"Hello, Savi."
Savannah goes rigid beside me, her weapon coming up, but Nathan raises his hands.
"I'm not here to fight," Nathan says, eyes locked on Savannah. "I'm here to offer you a deal."
"The only deal you're getting is life in prison instead of a needle." My Glock centers on his chest.
He doesn't look at me. "Savi, you don't understand what you're doing. The system is broken. We're trying to fix it."
"By murdering thousands of innocent people?" Her voice is steady, but the tremor runs through her where our shoulders touch.
"Casualties of war. Every revolution requires sacrifice."
"Titan security converging on your position," CJ warns through comms. "Whatever you're doing, do it fast."
