Mercer’s world shattered. He let out an animalistic roar and swung his weapon toward Voss.
But Voss was faster. He shot Mercer twice in the chest.
Mercer fell backward, crashing to the floor, gasping for air.
“Jonah!” Ryan screamed, finally pulling the trigger, laying down cover fire. Voss ducked behind the concrete pillar, returning fire. Bullets chipped the walls, filling the air with pulverized concrete dust.
Under the cover of Ryan’s fire, Lucas threw his entire body weight backward in the chair, shattering the rotting wood of the backrest. He rolled, bringing his bound hands beneath his legs to the front, and scrambled toward the cover of a rusted steel desk.
I crawled toward Mercer. He was bleeding out fast.
“Em…” Mercer coughed, blood bubbling on his lips. “The system… Voss isn’t uploading to the cloud. The base’s internal firewalls are too strong today because of the graduation.”
I clamped my good hand over his chest wounds. “What are you saying?”
“He’s bridging it,” Mercer wheezed, his eyes losing focus. “He’s using the physical comms tower on the roof of the North Annex to bypass the firewall. It’s a hardline connection.”
I looked at the tablet Voss had dropped when he took cover. A progress bar was crawling across the screen. 34% Complete.
“If that bar reaches one hundred,” Mercer gasped, “the network is locked forever. They win. You have to sever the physical connection at the tower.”
I looked down at my useless, bleeding left arm. I looked at my father, cowering in terror. I looked at Lucas, unarmed and zip-tied.
And then I looked at Ryan.
My brother had stopped firing. He was staring at the tablet, listening to Mercer’s fading words. He looked from the progress bar to the heavy steel door that led out to the tarmac, toward the North Annex tower.
52% Complete.
“Ryan,” I yelled over the gunfire. “You can’t. There are Halcyon snipers out there. That’s why Voss chose this building. It covers the approach to the tower.”
Ryan looked down at his chest. At the golden Trident he had spent years bleeding to earn. The symbol of the elite. The proof that he was the best.
