"Using my pressure-point mapping."
"Yes."
"That's insane."
"It is effective."
She laughs.
It is breathless and shaky and completely unhinged.
And then Kael's voice crackles through the earpiece, urgent and clipped.
"Cyprian. Secondary tactical units have flooded the elevators and the east stairwell. You are cut off on the third floor. Repeat: you are cut off. Hale has deployed his remaining heavy enforcers to your position. You have approximately forty-five seconds before they reach the executive corridor."
I process the information in an instant.
Standard extraction is impossible.
We cannot fight our way through reinforcements.
Not without risking Tamsin's safety.
Not without triggering a full-scale corporate siege that will bring every security operative in the building down on our position.
There is only one option.
I turn toward the massive floor-to-ceiling glass wall overlooking the dark, rain-swept harbor.
The wall is reinforced.
Triple-paned.
Designed to withstand hurricane-force winds and projectile impacts.
But it is not designed to withstand me.
I look down at Tamsin.
Her eyes meet mine.
She sees the calculation in my expression.
She sees the decision I have already made.
"No," she says.
"Yes."
"Cyprian, that's a three-story drop—"
"I am aware."
"You can't just—"
"I can."
"That's insane."
