The director rises slowly.
“You’ve made a mistake,” he says to me.
“No,” I answer calmly. “You did.”
He turns to the security standing.
“Contain them.”
That is the moment. Hawk moves before the first guard reaches us. His hand disappears into his jacket and emerges with a compact cylindrical device.
He drops it at his feet.
A sharp crack detonates the air — not deafening, but disorienting.
Dense white smoke blooms outward instantly, hopefully not lethal or blinding. Guards cough as I cover my mouth and nose, running to Hawk’s side.
The men at the table shout as one reaches blindly toward the table. Hawk grabs my wrist.
“Move.”
The smoke stings my throat almost immediately. I cough, vision blurring as alarms begin to scream overhead.
Through the haze I hear the director’s voice — no longer calm.
“Secure the scanner!”
Too late. Hawk kicks the device off the table as we retreat. It clatters across the floor.
We reach the elevator doors. One of the guards lunges, pulling his firearm through the haze. Hawk pivots, strikes cleanly, drops him without hesitation and takes his gun. The smoke thickens. I can barely see and my lungs burn.
The elevator doors open and we stumble inside. He hits the lower level button. The doors close just as silhouettes move toward us through the fog.
The elevator descends. My chest heaves as I cough the smoke from my lungs. Hawk pulls me closer instinctively, one arm braced around my shoulders.
“You all right?” he asks.
I nod, still coughing.
“They can’t reverse it,” I manage.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
The building alarms wail above us. Compliance review cannot be undone. The processors are flagged. The transaction is burned. For the first time since stepping into this building, we won.
The elevator slows, but the danger isn’t over. Not even close.
Chapter 11
Hawk
The elevator doors open to normal noise. Not alarms, just the usual conversation of people. Kat’s breathing is still uneven from the smoke as I pull her through the service corridor and out a side exit into open air.
Cold wind hits us, along with the sounds of Cupid City. Sirens are already rising somewhere behind the building.
“Left,” I say.
