A command node.
Mobile.
Shielded.
Human.
My pulse steadies.
“Distance?” I ask.
“Seven kilometers,” Lena answers. “Industrial quarter. Old freight yards. He’s close enough to run, far enough to believe he’s safe.”
He always wants to watch.
Aaron’s voice is calm beside me. “He wanted to see us bleed.”
“He wanted to see me choose,” I correct.
And now he’s going to see something else.
“Delta Five,” I say. “Target acquired.”
No reaction. No smiles.
Just readiness.
“This is Malenkov,” I continue. “Not his people. Not his systems. Him.”
Jase checks his weapon with a soft click. “Finally.”
The marker pulses again—then stutters.
He knows.
“He’s moving,” Lena says. “Trying to mask.”
“Won’t work,” I reply. “He already told us who he is.”
How he hesitated.
Where he watched longest.
Which node he saved for last.
Malenkov built prisons and contingencies and entire worlds of control.
But he forgot something simple.
Men who survive captivity learn patience.
Men who rescue their own learn precision.
And men who lose everything—
Learn how to end wars.
“Route us,” I say.
