"Asset 437 has served its purpose. The data I've extracted from him will be invaluable for improving future conditioning protocols." Webb's smile widens. "But the asset itself is no longer necessary."
My eyes narrow as Elliot whimpers, drawing Webb’s attention for long enough that I’m able to inject the adrenaline straight into his neck.
Webb snarls at Elliot to shut the fuck up. Almost in slow-motion, his thumb moves toward the button.
Behind him, inside the body bag, Briar's eyes snap open.
"Now," I say.
Everything happens at once.
Briar erupts from the bag, knife already in hand, lunging for the guard at the door. Webb spins, thumb pressing down on the transmitter—
I'm faster.
My hand closes around his wrist, twisting, forcing the device loose in his hand. Webb snarls, tries to pull free, but I've got leverage and fifteen years of training on my side.
The transmitter clatters to the floor.
I kick it across the room, away from Webb's reach, and drive my elbow into his face. Cartilage crunches. Blood sprays. He staggers backward, and I'm on him before he can recover, fist connecting with his jaw, his ribs, his solar plexus.
He goes down. Kicking him in the temple, ensuring he’s out cold, I start looking for the transmitter.
Behind me, I hear Briar finishing with the guard—a wet gurgle, a body hitting the floor.
Finding it under a medical table, I study the controls. Three buttons, color-coded. Red for termination. Yellow for paralysis. Green for pain.
There's a fourth button, smaller, unmarked.
I press it.
The collar around Elliot's neck clicks and falls away.
He gasps, eyes tracking me, hands clutching at his throat where the metal used to be. His gaze finds mine, wild and disoriented.
"Jace? Jace is that really you?"
"I'm here." I cross to him, start working on getting the restraints off. "I'm here. We're getting out."
"Webb—"
"Handled."
On the floor, Webb groans, trying to push himself upright. I glance at Briar, who's wiping his blade clean on the guard's uniform.
"We need to move," Briar says. "The distraction won't hold much longer. Should we kill him?"
“Nah, I don’t have time to do the things he deserves right now.”
I undo the last restraint and pull Elliot off the table. He collapses against me, legs barely able to hold his weight, body trembling with exhaustion and shock.
"Can you walk?"
"I don't—I'll try—"
"Good enough."
I wrap his arm around my shoulders, taking most of his weight. Briar moves to the door, checks the corridor, signals all clear.
