"Five days," Ivan murmurs, snapping it shut. "That gives us a window."
"It gives me time," I say. "I trade the tablet to get Helena back tonight. Get her to safety. Then... I hunt them down, and I take it back before the ship turns around."
He hands it back. "It's done. The tracker is active."
I slide the tablet into my pocket. It rests against my ribs, right over my heart.
"I'm going alone," I say.
"Konstantin," He grabs my arm. "That is a suicide mission. Moretti is a liar. He’ll have men there. If you walk in there with that tablet, he’ll take it and put a bullet in your head."
"Maybe," I say, checking the chamber of my gun. One in the pipe. Fifteen in the magazine. "But if I go in with a team, he kills her first."
I holster the weapon.
"I need her alive, Ivan," I say, looking him in the eye. "The business, we can rebuild. The shipment, we can steal back. But her? There’s no replacement."
I walk toward the elevator.
"If I'm not back in time," I say, "tell the Council the war has begun."
"Konstantin!" Ivan yells after me.
The elevator doors slide shut, cutting off his voice. Silence settles in as the numbers begin their slow descent.
It’s a trap. Moretti knows it. I know it.
For the first time in my life, strategy doesn’t matter. Neither do the odds.
The garage waits below. My Ferrari sits alone under the lights.
I slide behind the wheel and turn the key.
The engine wakes with a low, violent roar.
Midnight is coming.
So am I.
20
HELENA
The room spins.
My head throbs with a rhythm that leaves me nauseous.
I can still hear the metal screaming. The Sentinel flipping on the bridge. It's a loop I can't turn off.
The blood on my face has dried into a tight, itchy mask.
I try to swallow a breath, but my chest refuses. It’s like the Sentinel itself is sitting on my lungs. I can still feel the seatbelt jerking me back. Now, it's a stinging fire behind my ribs. Breathing shouldn't be this much work. Everything hurts.
I'm tied to a steel chair in a cavernous room.
The air is stale, thick with the taste of iron dust and the briny scent of the harbor’s low tide. Somewhere in the darkness above, water drips.
I try to shift my weight, but the zip ties bite into my wrists.
