Or the formation of a totalitarian society under the rule of a select few.
Either way. People would die. Billions of people. Starting with the poorest, the sickest, the most disadvantaged, while the rich hid away in their McMansions, waiting for the worst of it to blow over.
Newsflash.
Money in the bank wouldn’t save the elite when systems crashed. Diamonds in safes wouldn’t keep their bellies full. Fancy cars wouldn’t outrun the dangers flooding the streets. They’d die. It might take a little longer. But they’d die. Right alongside everyone else. Their privilege a false pretense when it came to survival of the fittest.
No corner of the globe would be spared if Dominion escaped any one of the stand-alone servers it’d been created on. A sophisticated piece of software designed to infiltrate and infect every computer connected to the Internet, the virus had been coded to be self-learning, replicating faster and spreading further than any malware ever created.
A question of when—not if—the virus would be released, they were racing the clock on a global Armageddon. And without Becca, they had no way to stop it.
No way to destroy it.
No way to survive it.
Hell, even with her help, they might not succeed. But if the world went to shit, Jay wanted her by his side when it did.
“What about Petrova Personal Protection?” Chase asked. “Think Lou could spare a couple of guys on short notice?”
“They’re good, but a handful of private sector paramilitary guys working outside the scope of the law aren’t going to cut it,” Grant replied. “We need a full-on black ops unit willing to go off-grid to conduct an unsanctioned and highly illegal smash-and-grab with little to no reasoning behind it.”
“If that’s the case, then we’re fucked.” Cody shifted his bulk to his left butt cheek and crossed one knee over the other to sit like an old man. “We don’t know how deep the conspiracy reaches, and thanks to Johnson, we’re at the top of every US government watch list out there. We can’t trust anyone to have our backs.”
“You’re forgetting one thing, numbnuts.” Grant deployed his evil grin on those around the table. “No one knows about me, and I’m not an American.”
Adam cocked a brow. “You know a black ops team willing to break every international humanitarian law when it comes to an off-the-books military operation?”
“Maybe.” Grant shrugged, his smile widening. “Let me make some phone calls.”
CHAPTER TWO
Ninety minutes of fresh air daily. Becca stepped outside and inhaled a full breath—long and slow, in through the nose, out through the mouth. Mistake. The cold March air seized her lungs for a couple of painful seconds, and she clapped a gloved hand over her chest, cursing her own stupidity.
Not the first time she’d done something she regretted. Wouldn’t be the last.
She thumped her fist against her sternum, a punishment of sorts, buffered by the thick down jacket she wore. Then she started running like her life depended on it. Ridiculous, because no one followed her. No need. Her prison was inescapable.
She’d know. Under the guise of a borderline-masochistic exercise routine, she’d scoured every square inch of accessible terrain on Big Diomede. A natural fortress, the rugged and inhospitable island consisted of rocky outcrops, impassable mountains, and sheer cliffs leading straight into the Bering Sea.
Pushed along by a strong arctic wind, she crossed the flat courtyard under the overcast sky until she reached the familiar path her feet had carved through the knee-deep snow. Eyes trained straight ahead, she didn’t hesitate as she passed one of the perimeter guards patrolling the compound.
He didn’t acknowledge her.
None of them ever did.
They were super soldiers. They didn’t get cold. They didn’t speak. They didn’t think for themselves. And they didn’t question orders. Thanks to the microchips embedded in their heads, they were living, breathing machines. Nothing more.
And they had one job to do.
Keep her alive and on the island.
Technically, that’s two jobs, Bec.
Shut up.
A chunk of ice caught the toe of her boot, and her heart skipped a beat as she adjusted her stride to keep from going down. When she regained her equilibrium, she shook her head to rid herself of Jay Mann’s voice.
Impossible to do.
