Aaron curses under his breath. “He wants you chasing smoke while he disappears.”
“He wants me angry,” I say. “Because angry men stop thinking.”
I look at the map again—then toggle a different layer. Logistics. Old rail spurs. Subterranean access routes no one uses anymore.
There.
A thin gray line.
“Stop the convoy,” I say suddenly.
Aaron looks up. “Which one?”
“The one that hasn’t left yet,” I answer. “Because it’s not meant to.”
Silence.
Then Miles inhales sharply. “Decoy convoy.”
“Yes.”
Lena exhales softly. “He expects you to hit the decoy hard and fast.”
“And when we do,” I add, “he’ll know exactly where we are.”
The vehicle hums beneath us, engine idling, waiting for the order I almost gave.
I lean forward, elbows on my knees, staring at the screen.
“You were close,” I murmur—to Malenkov, to the ghost of his strategy. “Closer than I like.”
But not close enough.
I straighten.
“Delta Five,” I say into the comm, voice steady now. “We don’t take the bait. We go quiet. We shadow.”
Aaron nods. “We let him think we bit.”
“Yes,” I say. “And then we hit where he doesn’t expect.”
Lena’s voice softens just slightly. “You okay?”
I glance at the darkened window, my reflection staring back—controlled, furious, focused.
“He tried to use my instincts against me,” I say. “That’s the last mistake he gets.”
Outside, the world looks calm.
Inside, the war just shifted again.
And Malenkov came within seconds of catching me in a trap that would have ended everything.
49
Lena
Location: Coastal North Carolina — Secure Operations Room
