Gunfire rips through the trees, sharper this time—no longer controlled, no longer holding back.
They adjust.
Fast.
Too fast.
“They’re tracking!” I snap.
“I know!” Logan fires back.
I cut hard left, breaking the line they expect, forcing them to recalculate. Dirt kicks up near my feet—too close.
Not warning shots anymore.
Good.
That means we pushed them.
“Right side collapsed,” Logan says. “I’ve got movement—three, maybe four—”
A shot cracks—
Then another—
Logan drops one.
I see it.
Feel it.
He’s still in this.
Still with me.
“Keep moving!” he calls.
“I am!”
But something’s different now.
The grid—
It’s not just reacting.
It’s failing.
And that’s when I see it.
“There!” I shout. “Center structure—control point!”
The half-collapsed building ahead—too obvious before, too clean, too intentional.
Not bait.
Core.
“He’s in there,” Logan says.
