Tight. But possible.
"The distraction?"
"Ready to deploy on your signal." Jagger falls into step beside me as we head toward the hangar. "Landon's been seeding false alerts across the Ministry network—security breaches, dataintrusions, asset escapes. Webb's been fielding calls for hours. He's stretched thin and getting thinner."
"Good. Keep the pressure on until we're clear."
Inside the hangar, a makeshift command center has been assembled. Monitors display security feeds, building schematics, communication intercepts. Landon goes and sits at the central console, fingers flying across three keyboards simultaneously, his face illuminated by the glow of scrolling data.
Briar stands behind him, arms crossed, watching the screens. He looks up when I enter.
"Six hours," he says. "That's our window. After that, Webb will figure out the diversions are fake and lock everything down."
"Then we move in five."
"The sedative?" Briar asks.
I pull the vial from my pocket. Clear liquid, pharmaceutical grade, designed to slow vital signs to near-death levels for approximately ninety minutes. Developed by Ministry of Design for deep cover operations. Stolen by me three years ago and kept for exactly this kind of situation.
Only I always thought I’d be using it on myself.
"One injection, and you'll register as clinically dead to any standard scan," I say. "Heart rate below twenty. Respiration almost undetectable. Body temperature drop of four degrees."
"And the antidote?"
"Administered within ninety minutes, or the simulation becomes reality."
Briar nods, unfazed. "I've died before. Metaphorically speaking."
Landon makes a strangled sound from his console. "This is insane. This whole plan is insane. You're going to inject yourself with something that stops your heart, get carried into a secure facility by a man who was sent to kill you, and hope you wake up in time to help fight your way out?"
"That's the general idea, yes."
"And if it goes wrong?"
"Then Jace completes the mission without me, and you get the cottage to yourself."
"That's not funny."
"It wasn't meant to be." Briar crosses to Landon, cups his face in both hands. "This is what I trained for my entire life. What I've been waiting for. A chance to actually change something instead of just watching from the shadows."
"I just got you," Landon whispers. "I'm not ready to lose you."
"You won't." Briar presses his forehead to Landon's. "I'll come back. I promise."
I look away. The intimacy feels too raw to witness, too close to something I recognize in myself.
I promise.
How many promises have I made to Elliot? How many am I about to break or keep in the next six hours?
Jinx appears at my side, voice low. "You good?"
"I'm focused."
"That's not what I asked."
I turn to face him. My youngest brother, the one who survived the pits, the one who channeled his trauma into a capacity for violence that even the Foundry found impressive. He's watching me with something that might be concern.
