Chapter 53
Seraphina
Kieran wasn’t with us—not this time. After the last safehouse was blown to bits, someone had to stay behind and protect the only working servers we had left. Someone had to keep watch over the fallback plan, the last sliver of home base we hadn’t lost.
Callum made the call, and Kieran hadn’t fought it. Much.
The comms crackled in my ear. "Callum, you're green. Proceed."
My hands hovered over the keyboard, trembling just slightly as I pulled up the thermal feeds.
The blueprints we’d been given didn’t match what I was seeing.
Facility E had been upgraded—reinforced doors, extra patrols, heat signatures in places that were supposed to be storage or empty corridors. I swallowed hard.
This was a trap. I could feel it in my bones.
"Sera, talk to me," Emerson murmured beside me, his voice tight but calm.
"They knew we were coming," I said, barely above a whisper. I toggled through cams faster, my fingers flying. "Rerouting now."
On the screen, I watched as Callum—ghost in black gear, weapon drawn—led Quinn and Basen through the breach point. Basen moved like liquid threat. Quinn held his ground at the back, already feeding false signals into the perimeter alarms. My chest constricted.
They were in. And I was supposed to be the one keeping them alive.
Callum
"Feck me, they're heavier than we thought," I muttered, flattenin' against the concrete as two guards passed just beyond the east wall. "Sera, love, talk to me."
She came through the line a breath later, voice all focus and fire. She was shaken, but fightin'. "New route. Cut through the sub-generator hallway. It's narrow but unguarded. Leads to the server core."
"Copy that. Quinn, you're with me. Basen, hold this path. If this turns south, we fall back here. No hero shite."
Basen gave me a nod, already settin' his back to the wall, rifle up. I moved quick, steps silent, heart poundin'. We were in the belly now, and it stank of bleach, metal, and old blood.
Seraphina
My pulse thundered in my ears. "Quinn, camera loop starting... now. You've got twenty seconds, then the hall goes hot. "
"On it," Callum whispered through comms. I tracked him with the overhead feed. They slipped past the security eye just as a patrol turned the opposite corridor.
I exhaled. Too close.
Then a new feed flickered online—an automatic system, activated by a heartbeat sensor. Sub-basement. I clicked in and froze.
A face.
Alive. Moving.
I gasped. "Callum… there's someone in the lower level. Section 7C. You need to see this."
Emerson leaned in beside me, eyes going wide.
"Bloody hell," he breathed. "Is that—?"
"Tristan," I whispered. "No. It can't be."
The man who'd trained me. Who'd helped raise me from the ashes of my first escape. The one I buried in my grief years ago.
Not only was he alive—he was armed. Wearing Langston's sigil.
Callum
I heard the name like a dagger through the feckin' spine.
"Tristan? "
I knew what that meant to her. Had seen the photos in the old files. He was mentor, ghost, maybe even more than that.
"Sera, listen to me," I said low. "Don’t spiral. Stay with me. We’ll deal with the bastard. But right now, I need your head clear. I need you sharp."
Silence.
Then her voice, like cracked glass.
"I'm here. I’ve got you."
My chest burned with pride—and rage. Rage that they used him like this. Turned her pain into another weapon.
"Good girl," I murmured, just for her.
Then I raised my weapon and moved deeper into the dark.