I keyed my mic. “All teams, this is Trigger. Rylie is mobile. Repeat—Rylie is mobile. Do not breach yet.”
A pause. Concern edged Wolf’s voice. “She’s alone in there.”
“I know,” I said quietly. “Which is why we don’t spook them.”
Because if they panicked…
They’d hurt her.
My hands flexed around my rifle as another alarm blared from inside the structure—closer this time. Shouts echoed. Orders overlapping. No clear command.
They were losing control.
“She’s running,” Havoc said. “Heat signature—barefoot. Injured wrists.”
My chest burned.
“Guide her,” I said. “Use sound. Pressure. Funnel.”
I rose, moving fast and silent downhill, every step chosen with care. I could almost see her in my mind—focused, stubborn, refusing to give in even now.
Rylie Tate didn’t break.
She adapted.
“She’s heading toward the sub-level,” Wolf said.
I stopped.
Sub-level meant exits. Old drainage. Utility tunnels.
Hope.
Or a trap.
“She won’t take a dead end,” I said. “She’ll test it first.”
Just then—one sharp gunshot cracked the air.
Not close. Not aimed.
A warning shot.
My blood went cold.
“That’s them,” I said. “They’re trying to stop her without killing her.”
Leverage.
Still alive.
Still mine to get back.
I moved again—faster now, no hesitation. The storm had broken, and I was done waiting at the edge of it.
“Rylie,” I murmured under my breath, like she could hear me. “Hold on.”
Because somewhere inside that concrete maze, she had just changed the rules.
