Until we’re too tired to fight.
He sinks onto the edge of the bed. I curl up across the room, back pressed to the cold wall. Neither of us speaks. Neither of us dares.
Eventually, I climb into bed. We lie back to back.
Not touching.
Not breathing right.
Too scared to face what this means.
Too scared to name it.
In the dark, I whisper, “I’m still not going to the safehouse.”
He exhales slow. “Then we make it work.”
I blink into the blackness.
“New plan,” he murmurs. “We bait Tugun. Use the chip. Drop a hint through the old channel. Let him think he’s one step ahead.”
“And when he bites?”
“We pull him in close.”
“And then?”
He doesn’t answer for a long time.
Then: “Then we kill him.”
I close my eyes.
Morning comes like a slap. Harsh light, stale breath, the cold bite of reality.
Voltar’s already up, hunched over the table with a cup of something strong. I pad over, arms crossed.
“You still mad?” I ask.
He looks up. “Still worried.”
I nod.
“Good.”
Then, without a word, we start building the trap.
CHAPTER 16
VOLTAR
The warehouse stinks of rust and old ghosts. It's the kind of place where secrets rot and bones don’t stay buried.
Perfect.
I walk the perimeter, boots echoing off the cold concrete, every step a check-in with the dozen cloaked drones we’ve planted. Tiny things, smart as hell. Motion-sensitive, auto-trackers, thermal-synced. A full defense net wired tight and silent.
I’m halfway through running the third scan cycle when Sable shows up.
