Chapter 8: Into the Lion's den

Ari lit a cigarette and passed it toward Roman. “Cops can track smoke, right?” he said with a crooked grin.

Roman didn’t respond. Harlow was already scrolling through security shift reports on her tablet, eyes sharp and focused. Riven sat quietly, watching the dark road ahead, his mind still tangled in last night’s firefight and the smirk on Mason’s face.

“This team has one shot,” Kael said from behind the wheel. “We can’t afford mistakes.”

“We won’t,” Riven answered, voice steady.

They crossed the county line as Concord’s city lights cut through the early morning haze. The data center sat low and squat, with tinted windows and a blank white sign. Two guards lingered under a heat lamp, laughing between bites of jelly donuts.

Kael killed the engine. Ari slipped out first, knocking twice on the rear panel of the van. “Let’s move.”

The team advanced in sync, cutting across the lot like shadows. Ari crouched by the side entrance, lockpick kit in hand. Seconds later, the door clicked open, and they filed in.

Inside, the hall smelled of bleach and cold steel. Motion-sensitive lights flicked on with every step until Ari flipped a small jammer, freezing them in place. Kael nodded, taking point as they wound through the corridors like muscle through veins.

Roman and Harlow disappeared down a side hall toward the mainframe. Riven hesitated outside a familiar door—the air, the humming wires, even the stale carpet felt like echoes. Kael reached out, hand brushing the small of Riven’s back, grounding him.

Inside the server room, Roman was already at the console. Harlow stood beside him, typing rapidly as lines of code crawled across the screen. The malware transfer began, a slow bar ticking forward.

Ari kept watch through the window, eyes narrowed. “Two minutes before the next rotation. Keep it clean.”

Roman reached into his jacket and pulled out a flash drive, the label scrawled in faded ink. “Vault logs—everything we need. Experiments, finances, names.”

Riven took the drive, fingers tightening around it. Mason’s name stared back at him like a curse.

Then came the beep.

A warning light flickered above the door. Kael’s jaw tightened. “Time’s up.”

Ari shut the door and braced it with a crowbar. Riven ducked low behind a server rack while Harlow initiated the alarm override. The panel sparked and went dark.

Footsteps pounded down the hall.

Kael grabbed Riven and pushed him into the corner, standing in front of him like a wall. “Stay behind me.”

The door burst open. Two guards entered, guns raised. Ari didn’t flinch.

“Evening, gentlemen,” he said, tapping the crowbar against the tile. “You here for the system maintenance too?”

One guard hesitated. Behind him, the progress bar reached the final few digits. Harlow hit the key to activate the wipe.

The second guard didn’t wait. He raised his shotgun—and Kael moved. He slammed his boot into the guard’s arm, sending the weapon spinning. Riven started forward, only for Kael to grab him and yank him back.

“Out. Now.”

Ari barreled into the other guard, knocking him hard into a server rack as sparks flew and cables snapped. Shouts filled the hallway. Kael slammed the door shut and locked it.

“We got what we came for,” Roman said, pressing the final key.

On the screen: Upload Complete.

Outside, rain hammered the pavement. The team sprinted to the trucks, soaked within seconds. Kael threw the engine into gear just as the flash of red-and-blue lights emerged from the far end of the lot.

Roman shouted from the back, “We’ve got company.”

Kael veered off the main road and down a muddy access trail. The cruiser followed but couldn’t keep up through the trees. Water sprayed across the windshield as branches whipped by. Riven gripped the door, adrenaline screaming through him.

They didn’t stop until the safehouse came into view, porch light flickering through the mist.

Ari banged on the door. It swung open to reveal Mrs. Bea in curlers and a flour-dusted robe. She blinked at their soaked clothes and bruised arms but didn’t say a word. Towels, tea, blankets—she moved like she’d been expecting them.

Riven collapsed onto the couch, tea warming his hands. Roman and Harlow were already scanning the new logs. Ari slumped beside the fireplace and kicked off his boots.

“We just erased them, right?” he asked.

Harlow looked up. “Their servers are fried. Comms disabled. They’re going dark for a long time.”

Kael dropped next to Riven and reached up to brush a damp curl from his forehead. “We bought time. Not safety.”

Riven leaned against him. “But we’ve got proof now. About Mason. About the memory suppression. Everything.”

Mrs. Bea appeared again, this time with cinnamon rolls. “You did good,” she said, voice soft. “But they’re saying on the radio the whole county’s under state surveillance.”

Ari sighed. “Of course it is.”

Kael broke a roll in half and handed it to Riven. They ate in silence, sticky fingers and damp clothes pressed shoulder to shoulder.

Later, when the rain stopped, the team moved out onto the porch. The sky above the lake turned silver-blue as dawn bled across the trees. Riven watched Kael’s face, the light catching on sharp edges and tired eyes.

“You good?” Kael asked.

Riven nodded slowly. “I am now.”

Kael cupped his jaw and kissed him, quiet and full of things they didn’t have words for yet. Riven pulled him close and didn’t let go.

Behind them, Roman cleared his throat.

“Message just came through,” Harlow said, holding up her phone. “Encrypted. Unknown sender.”

She read it aloud.

Phase II initiated. Subjects reunited. Proceed to containment.

No one moved.

Riven looked at Kael. “What does that mean?”

Ari grabbed the crowbar again. “It means they still think we belong to them.”

Kael slid his hand into Riven’s and held on tight. “Then they’re about to learn we don’t.”

Above them, a low drone cut across the

sky.

The first surveillance plane.