Tires scream. Gunfire cracks sharp and precise—notspray, not panic. Delta Five fires like one organism, every round intentional.
The lead vehicle loses its engine first. Miles’ shot punches through the block. Smoke billows.
The second vehicle tries to swerve—
Aaron drops the driver.
It slams into a concrete barrier and shudders to a stop.
Silence falls hard.
I advance, weapon up, heart steady.
Doors burst open.
Men spill out—confused, shouting, reaching for weapons they never get to raise.
Jase moves like gravity—unstoppable, unavoidable.
It’s over in seconds.
I stand at the center of it, scanning for movement, threats, anything that still breathes with intent.
Nothing.
“Red Three neutralized,” Lena says softly. “All Black Crown nodes are dark.”
I let the words settle.
All of them.
Aaron exhales slowly. “That was it.”
“Yes,” I say.
But Malenkov isn’t done.
Not yet.
Because men like him don’t stop when they lose.
They stop when they’re exposed.
I look at my team—dusty, bruised, lethal, alive.
“Delta Five,” I say. “Regroup. We’re not chasing ghosts anymore.”
Jase smirks faintly. “We’re hunting the man.”
Exactly.
Somewhere out there, Malenkov is watching his contingency die in real time.
And now—
He knows something else.
We’re not fractured.
