Chapter 4 - The ExtractionRed and blue lights began to pulse through the cracked, grime-covered windows of the warehouse. The synchronized arrival wasn't a tactical strike team; it was a raid. Federal authorities, guided by the exact financial anomalies Arthur’s system had just broadcasted to every major regulatory agency in the hemisphere.
The two massive guards looked at the flashing lights, then at the dead laptop, and finally at Richard. Without a word, they placed their pistols on the dusty concrete and melted away into the darkness of the rear exit. Mercenaries only fought for men who could pay them. Richard was now officially a ghost.
"You set me up," Richard hissed, reaching frantically for the useless laptop.
Before his fingers could graze the plastic, one of my men stepped forward, driving a heavy boot into the back of Richard's knee, pinning him to the floor with effortless efficiency.
I didn’t even watch him fall. My focus was entirely above me.
I stepped onto the rusting desk and drew a tactical blade. With a single, sharp motion, I severed the frayed rope. Eleanor collapsed, but I caught her instantly, pulling her into my chest. I gently peeled the silver tape from her mouth and cut the bindings at her wrists.
She gasped, her head resting against my shoulder. Slowly, she opened her bloody, clenched hand. Resting in her palm was a tiny, crushed biometric scrambler. She hadn't been helpless; she had been actively blocking Richard's local network all night from the inside, waiting for my override.
"I told you," Eleanor whispered, her voice hoarse but steady. "I'm clumsy with electronics."
May you like
I smiled, wrapping my overcoat around her shivering shoulders. "Let's go home, El."
We walked toward the heavy iron doors, leaving the ruins of Richard Vance’s empire echoing with the sound of approaching sirens.
