Perfect conditions for ghosts to move unseen.
I start climbing. The tower stairs groan under my boots, ice crackling with each step. More cameras watch my ascent. I just smash them with my fist as I pass.
Let him think I'm angry. Let him think I'm desperate.
Twenty feet up, I hear it—boot scuffs above. Granger's moving. Repositioning.
I quicken my pace, blood thrumming hot despite the bitter cold. The last flight of stairs stretches ahead, leading to a heavy metal door.
When I push it open, my heart stops.
Sloane's there. Alive. Zip-tied to the balcony railing, but alive.
Our eyes lock.
In that moment, everything else falls away—the mission, the timer, the threat. Just her. Just us.
I cross the space in three strides and pull her against my chest, mindful of the restraints but needing to feel her breathe. To know this isn't another ghost I'm chasing.
"I'm sorry," she whispers against my neck. "Logan, I'm so sorry?—"
"Later," I cut her off, already working at the zip ties. "We'll deal with everything later."
The plastic is military-grade, reinforced. Won't break by hand.
So I grip it anyway.
Pull until my palms slice open.
Until blood makes everything slick and warm.
"Stop!" Sloane hisses. "You're hurting yourself?—"
"Don't care."
The zip tie finally snaps, and Sloane immediately grabs my bleeding hands, pressing her sleeve against the cuts.
"Are you insane?"
I catch her face between my palms, leaving red smears on her cheeks. "If it means keeping you alive? Yes. Always."
Something flickers in her eyes.
I free her ankles next. My blood drips faster. The cuts sting, but I barely notice.
I tap my ear once, our signal that the team is near. That she needs to find cover and stay quiet.
She nods, understanding instantly.
Which leaves me with one last task.
End this.
The tower's top floor has two doors. One leads back to the stairs.
The other...
I approach it slowly, every sense heightened. I can feel Granger behind it. Waiting. Watching.
