The armed men turned toward Wyatt.
He was alone on the platform. No weapon. No backup. Just him and the enemy, and sixty feet of black water behind him.
The Jayhawk banked hard over the water, trailing smoke from the tail section. Bishop was good. He’d get them home.
Wyatt turned back to the men closing in on him.
Good.
He worked cleaner alone.
His breathing leveled, his hands didn’t shake.
To his side, the tower.
Wyatt took off. The tower meant cover, corridors. A hundred places where one unarmed man could make himself a very expensive problem.
He’d been a problem before.
Time to be one again.
3
Jen didn’t think.
Her body moved before her brain caught up. Out of the lift, away from the attackers—escape was the only option. A gunshot cracked loud enough to punch through her eardrums and leave them ringing.
She pelted down the narrow corridor, careened through a maintenance door. Hit the ladder access and went down without touching half the rungs, palms sliding hot on the rails. Her tool kit banged against her hip. Her boots hit the deck, the sound booming as if she was running inside a steel drum.
Max. Smith. Cutter.
She didn’t look back.
Had Max’s sacrifice bought her enough time, or had they killed him the second she ran?
Her throat closed.
Not now. She couldn’t think about that now. She could fall apart later. If there was a later.
But Max’s voice echoed anyway.Run, Chief. GO!
An alarm split the air, the sound so sharp her vision lurched with it.
Red strobes washed the corridor in violent flashes, turning the steel walls into a pulsing nightmare.
“Lockdown protocol initiated. Lockdown protocol initiated.” The calm, automated voice made her want to scream.
Her breath came in ragged gasps, and her temple throbbed where the gun had struck. Blood dripped warm down her jaw. She swiped it away, smearing red across her knuckles.
Lockdown sealed the weapons systems behind blast doors and firewalls. Hours to breach, even if you knew the architecture. But it also meant she was locked down on Seven with an unknown number of armed terrorists, with no idea what they wanted.
Not good.
She slowed.
What now?
Think. Think.
