Choosing the moment.
“She tried to get free,” I say.
No question in it.
Cyclone nods slowly. “Yeah. Whoever was on board rerouted immediately after. Changed altitude, changed course. Emergency protocol without declaring one.”
Faron swears under his breath. “That’s not a panic response.”
“No,” I say. “That’s damage control.”
River studies the screen. “You’re sure it was her.”
“I’d bet my life on it.”
Because she wouldn’t wait.
Because she wouldn’t break.
Because Lena Hart doesn’t sit still when the door cracks open.
Cyclone zooms in on the new flight path. “They split systems afterward. Manual override. That tells me two things.”
I meet his gaze. “They’re scared.”
“And she hurt someone.”
The corners of my mouth lift—not a smile. Something sharper.
“Good.”
River straightens. “We still don’t have a destination.”
“But we have intent,” I reply. “They’re moving her away from assets. From networks. From anything we can trace.”
I walk to the board, scanning possibilities faster than cyclones can spin up models. Remote airstrips. Medical facilities. Black-site holding meant forproblems, not prisoners.
“She’s injured,” I say suddenly.
The room stills.
River’s eyes narrow. “How do you know?”
“Because if she wasn’t, they’d already be dead.”
Silence stretches—thick, heavy.
Cyclone breaks it quietly. “There’s one facility that fits the profile. Not on official grids. Old Cold War infrastructure. Used to be medical. Now… no one’s quite sure.”
I turn. “Where.”
He hesitates. “Carpathians. Deep. Snow. No roads after the access point.”
I grab my jacket.
River’s voice follows me. “We don’t have confirmation she’s there.”
I stop at the door and look back.
