I got to work.
My fingers flew, bypassing the first shells of security one after another. Some of the old exploits I knew no longer worked; someone had already patched them. I worked around them, digging into deeper, more delicate places.
“Andrei?” I called.
“Yeah?” he answered, moving between windows, watching the entrances.
“Get ready to move us the second this goes sideways.”
“Already planning it.”
Lev paced the far wall, checking for alternative exits we could use. Roman watched the main door, gun ready. Dmitri’s gaze alternated between us and the hallway, mind undoubtedly calculating angles of attack should it prove necessary.
Viktor planted himself near the door with Roman, rifle relaxed in his hands but his posture anything but. When he caught me looking, he flashed a tiny, crooked smile that made my core twist tight.
Eyes on the screen, Katya. No time to indulge in fantasy right now…
“Katya?” Dmitri called out. “Can you handle it?”
“Yes,” I said, fingers flying across the keys. “Just buy me a couple minutes.”
Andrei stepped beside me, shoulder brushing mine.
“Tell me what you need,” he said.
“I need everyone to shut up for thirty seconds,” I muttered. “I’m doing brain surgery.”
The interface flickered, fighting me. Their security systems locked file after file as I pried them open.
I typed command after command—simple ones, nothing fancy—navigating directly to the encrypted stores I knew existed but were never meant to touch again.
“Explain this in terms I can actually follow,” Kara called.
“Fine,” I said through clenched teeth. “I’m breaking into things.”
“What kind of things?” Roman asked.
“All the things.”
That seemed to satisfy him.
The screen flashed a warning:Access Restricted. Level Omega Authorization Only.
“Cute,” I muttered.
Andrei leaned closer. “Problem?”
“No,” I said. “Just a pretentious door I’m about to kick down digitally.”
I entered an override code I’d once used during training simulations—one of those rare privileges I’d earned through long nights, excellent scores, and a disturbing willingness to perform tasks no one else wanted.
The screen blinked as though it was hesitating.
Then shifted.
The restricted files opened like a book someone tried to hide behind their back.
“Jesus,” Kara whispered, reading over my shoulder. “They catalog everything.”
