He jerks away, but Lonari’s hand clamps his shoulder, pinning him.
The scanner pings, searching not for Morazin’s identity but for residual imprint—authorization traces, cryptographic signatures sometimes piggybacked in implanted tech. If High Lantern’s keys touched Morazin’s module, there might be a partial imprint—a fragment.
My compad chirps once, then flashes a result:
PARTIAL BIOMETRIC TRACE DETECTED — SOURCE: UNKNOWN AUTHORIZATION LAYER
My breath catches.
“Got you,” I whisper.
The wall to the leftexplodes inwardwith a concussive blast.
Dust and concrete powder fill the air like gray snow. The smell is sharp—burned rock, ozone, hot metal. My ears ring instantly.
Kaijen guards outside open fire. The corridor erupts in shouting and weapons discharge—controlled bursts, but frantic.
Lonari grabs me by the arm and yanks me backward, dragging me away from the breach.
“Move!” he roars.
Morazin shrieks, trying to thrash, but his cuffs keep him anchored to the chair.
I glance back?—
Through the dust, black silhouettes pour through the breach.
Nine operatives.
Weapons up.
Silent.
My heart slams against my ribs like it’s trying to escape first.
Lonari’s people engage, and the safehouse becomes a storm of sparks and smoke.
I clutch my compad to my chest like it’s my spine, because in some ways it is—the restraint codes, the biometric trace, the recording channels, the leverage.
Lonari shoves me toward a back exit, a narrow service tunnel that smells like damp concrete and old coolant.
“Where’s Morazin?” I shout, voice cracking.
Lonari’s eyes are hard. “He’s coming.”
Behind us, someone screams—a Kaijen guard hit. The sound cuts off abruptly.
Morazin’s voice echoes through the chaos, taunting and panicked at once: “They’ll take me! They’ll?—”
A gunshot cracks.
Not a kill shot. A disable. I hear Morazin grunt in pain.
Then Lonari’s voice, furious: “Shut up!”
We plunge into the tunnel, leaving the main room behind.
I don’t look back again until we’re running blind through the service veins, because if I look back, I’ll see who dies buying us seconds.
