I nodded, signaling left flank. He moved right, our steps in rhythm, a practiced duet in chaos. I caught a glimpse of Markham reloading—calm, precise, still believing he could win this.
I fired. The round hit the ground near his cover, and he jerked back, just enough for Hawk to sweep around the other side. “Drop it!” Hawk shouted.
Markham hesitated, gun still in his hand. “You really think you understand what you’re fighting, Jensen? Reese was a front—an easy villain to keep you occupied. But the next phase is already running.”
Hawk stepped closer, weapon steady. “Then shut it down.”
Markham’s expression twisted. “Even I can’t.”
For a heartbeat, everything stilled—rain, rotor wash, the world holding its breath. Then he lifted his weapon.
Hawk fired first.
Markham crumpled, the gun clattering across the tarmac. The case slid free, bouncing once before stopping at my feet. Smoke curled from Hawk’s barrel, the echo fading into the wind.
I knelt beside Markham. He was still breathing, barely. His lips moved. “You’ll see… the next key… Midwest…” The words dissolved into a final exhale.
Mile’s voice came through, thin and urgent. “We’repicking up data transmission from his location—shortwave burst to a satellite node over Kansas. It’s not random. He triggered something.”
Hawk wiped the rain from his face, jaw tight. “Then that’s where Reese went.”
Boone and Aaron arrived seconds later, weapons raised, scanning the perimeter. “Report?” Aaron asked.
“Markham’s down,” Hawk said. “But we’re not done.”
Aaron looked at the case. “That's the Veridian core?”
Julia nodded. “And probably our only map to Phase Three.”
Mile’s voice: “Confirming—files inside are live. You just stopped a launch command midstream. If you hadn’t…” He didn’t finish.
Hawk exhaled. “Then we just bought the world a few more hours.”
The rain eased, a pale light edging the horizon. I looked at him—face streaked with dirt and water, eyes dark with everything he’d seen—and felt the truth settle between us: this wasn’t victory, just reprieve.
He caught my gaze. “Midwest?”
I nodded. “Midwest.”
Aaron clapped his shoulder. “Then that’s our next move.”
As the transport lifted behind us, carrying Markham’s body and the evidence toward the debrief, the wind scattered the last of the storm clouds. The sky was clearing, but beneath the dawn I could still feel it—the pulse of something bigger, waiting.
27
Hawk
We regrouped in a hangar outside Quantico—bare walls, coffee gone cold, and the low drone of generators filling the silence. The storm that had chased us across the coast finally broke against the windows, turning the glass into rivers of gray.
Aaron stood at the head of the table, maps spread wide. Mile’s laptop cast blue light across his face. Boone leaned against a crate, arms folded, eyes half closed but listening. Logan stood next to him. We were all running on fumes.
“Markham’s last transmission triangulated to three towers across the Midwest,” Miles said. “All bouncing to a single underground node near Springfield, Missouri. And it’s not military—at least not officially.”
Aaron frowned. “Private?”
“Private-adjacent,” Miles said. “The shell company lists defense logistics, but the funding flows back to Halcyon subsidiaries. The place is listed as a data storage and testing facility—no sign of legitimate personnel.”
Julia looked up from the corner, fatigue etched under her eyes. “What kind of testing?”
