The room stilled around Ash’s voice. “Both teams, hold at thirty seconds. Sync on my mark.”
Ellory discovered she wasn’t looking at numbers but at the glorious flex of his back muscles and jerked her attention back tothe screen. But his tone cut through her focus in a way that made her pulse leap.
Ash in command did things to her insides that she didn’t have time to examine closer.
“Wyoming, confirm breach points.”
“Front and rear entries set,” Denver replied.
“New York?”
“Rear stairwell and side office window. Thermals still clean.”
Ash twisted to glance at the central clock, muscles rippling.
“On my count.” His voice was impressively calm. “Three. Two. One. Execute.”
Through the speakers came the muted thunder of simultaneous breaches. A door splintering somewhere in upstate New York. Glass shattering in Wyoming. Boots pounded into controlled chaos.
“Wyoming inside. Clear left. Clear right.”
“New York?”
“Moving.” Con’s voice cut through the room. Next to Ellory, Sophie stayed tense. “Two office doors closed.”
Ash tracked both feeds as live body cam footage flickered across the main display. “Wyoming, second floor first. On the lookout for hard drives. Pull everything.”
“Copy.”
“New York, talk to me.”
“Offices clear. Found a server room. Taking everything.”
“Copy.”
Her stomach fluttered as he guided the teams through the op.
But underneath it, dread.
If they found Cipher, they might find someone with him. Someone who’d gone undercover and thrown himself into Cipher’s dark world to stop him. Her brother Archer.
Either one of these teams could find him today. She didn’t let herself finish the thought about what condition he’d be in.
She laced her fingers together in her lap and said a silent prayer.
Then she centered herself and got back to work. The code string was just as important as what was happening around her. Sophie had every right to be distracted—the man she loved was in the trenches—but the woman was pounding keys faster, peeling back layers, exposing more.
Ellory wasn’t as good at ignoring Ash. His voice threaded through her concentration like a stroke of his hand.
“Wyoming, basement access?”
“Locked,” Denver came back.
“Blow it.”
A few beats followed, then the sharp crack of a charge.
“Basement open. Moving.”
