A corner of my mouth lifts.
“That’s my SEAL brother for you.”
“Delta Five,” I say into the open channel. “Jonah’s executing Phase Four.”
No questions.
Jase is already adjusting satellite angles. Aaron reroutes drone coverage. Miles overlays strike vectors without being told.
This is what four years of planning looks like.
Lena’s voice sharpens. “Malenkov just re-tasked internal security. He’s thinning his perimeter.
I close my eyes for half a second.
There it is.
The mistake.
“He thinks Jonah is the threat,” I say. “He’s wrong.”
Aaron nods slowly. “You want the extraction team moving?”
“Yes,” I say. “But quiet.”
I bring up the detention wing feed—the biosigns of the remaining prisoners pulsing weak but steady.
Still alive.
Still holding.
My chest tightens.
“Delta Five,” I continue, voice dropping into something colder. “We’re done reacting.”
I tap the screen, drawing a box around the Ascendancy’s eastern access corridor—the one Malenkov believes is locked down.
“Jonah has given us the opening,” I say. “We take it.”
Miles looks up. “You’re committing everything.”
“No,” I correct. “I’m committing precision.”
I switch channels.
“Jonah,” I say calmly. “You’re doing exactly what I need you to do. Keep pulling them uphill. You’re buying us twelve minutes.”
A pause.
Then his voice—rough, controlled, alive.
“Roger that,” Jonah replies. “Twelve feels generous.”
I almost smile.
“Survive,” I tell him. “That’s an order.”
The line clicks dead.
