“On it.”
The antenna sparks and dies. The building goes dark—too dark. Emergency power kicks in a beat later, but it’s clumsy, uneven.
Human.
We fan out to the perimeter. I crouch near a railcar, hand resting on cool steel, listening. Inside the building: movement. One set of footsteps. Measured. Controlled.
He’s calm.
That’s fine.
“Delta Five,” I say softly. “Final approach. No shots unless I call it.”
Jase glances over, reading my intent. “You want him alive.”
“I want himanswered,” I reply.
We breach quietly—lock defeated, door eased open, shadows swallowing us as we slip inside. The air smells of dust and ozone, old electronics humming their last.
I step into the central room.
He’s there.
Malenkov stands behind a table cluttered with tablets andmaps, jacket immaculate, hands folded as if he’s been waiting for a meeting to start. He turns slowly, eyes sharp, assessing.
Not surprised.
Of course not.
“Ronan Pierce,” he says, voice smooth. “You’re persistent.”
“Location confirmed,” Lena whispers in my ear. “No additional hostiles.”
Good.
I don’t raise my weapon. I don’t need to.
“You ran,” I say. “That’s new.”
A faint smile touches his mouth. “Strategic relocation.”
“From control,” I reply. “From leverage.”
His eyes flick—just once—toward the dark antenna outside. Toward the dead screens. Toward the absence of the world he commanded.
“Your men are impressive,” he says lightly. “Jonah especially.”
I take one step forward.
“Don’t,” I say.
He studies me, recalibrating. “You rescued them,” he continues. “You neutralized Black Crown. You believe this ends here.”
“I believe you’re done choosing,” I answer.
Silence stretches. Heavy. Expectant.
Malenkov exhales slowly. “You think killing me changes anything?”
