CHAPTER 2 - A MISTAKEN PACKAGE

The morning began as ordinarily as any other-fluorescent lights humming, printers churning, the distant whirr of the HVAC system pushing out recycled air that always smelled faintly like old paper and lemon cleaner. Kira slipped into her cubicle with a shy smile at no one in particular and set her lunch bag neatly in the corner. Routine steadied her nerves. Routine was safety wrapped in predictability.

But today... today there was something on her desk that shouldn't have been there.

A small, padded envelope. Unmarked. No name. No return address. Not one of the standard courier slips her department usually received.

Kira frowned, gently brushing her fingers over the surface as if it might vanish at her touch. It hadn't been here the night before. She remembered wiping down her desk-she always did-and logging out at exactly 6:01 p.m. The envelope was new.

She checked the time: 8:17 a.m. No one had walked past her cubicle except the janitor finishing his shift and Marcy from payroll, already ranting about her ex. No courier. No delivery alert. Nothing.

Her heart gave a small, uncertain flutter.

Maybe it was accounting documents. Maybe someone dropped it off early. Maybe it was a miss delivery.

But then again... miss deliveries in her department were rare. Too many regulations, too much tracking, too much emphasis on chain of custody.

She slid a finger under the flap and opened the package.

Inside was a single black flash drive.

No label. No company sticker. Just a matte, unremarkable USB drive that looked like it belonged to someone who didn't want to be noticed.

A chill crept up the base of her spine.

Kira immediately stood to peer into the hallway, expecting someone to suddenly appear and say, "Oh, that was meant for me!"

But no one did.

The office buzzed with normalcy-phones ringing, coworkers complaining about coffee, keyboards clacking-but the envelope in her hand felt like a disruption, a foreign object in her well-controlled world.

She sat back down slowly.

Maybe she should send it to IT. Or hand it to her supervisor. Or, better yet... ignore it entirely.

But curiosity tugged at her-an unfamiliar, unwelcome tug that she shouldn't have felt but did.

Her fingers hesitated over the drive.

Kira, no. You hate surprises. You hate risks.

Yet she inserted the flash drive into her computer.

A single folder appeared.

CONFIDENTIAL - PROJECT HAWKFALL

Her breath stopped.

She shouldn't open it.

She knew that.

But something about the stark lettering, the weight of secrecy implied in every capital letter-it whispered to her, low and dangerous.

Her hand trembled as she clicked.

Inside were dozens of files. Spreadsheets. PDFs. Videos. Audio recordings. All neatly arranged in chronological order.

But the first document she opened-just one-was enough to make her blood run ice-cold.

It was a ledger. A real, untouched, internal ledger. Not the sanitized one her firm submitted publicly. This one showed numbers she'd never seen before. Transfers to shell companies she didn't recognize. Payments labeled with cryptic phrases like "Clearance Ops" and "Night Protocol" and "Asset Removal."

Millions. Tens of millions. All illegal.

Her breath came faster. The cursor on the screen blurred.

She clicked another file.

Pictures. Surveillance photos. Men in tactical gear. A warehouse she didn't recognize.

Another file.

Audio. A man's voice-stern, calm, authoritative-speaking in tones that made her chest tighten.

"This operation continues until every loose end is secured. I want complete erasure. No survivors."

Kira slapped her hand over her mouth.

She knew that voice.

Everyone in the company knew that voice.

Richard Hale.

CEO. Billionaire. The man whose face was on every magazine cover. The man whose empire was as spotless as his reputation.

Her stomach twisted.

This wasn't a mistake.

This wasn't a courier error.

Someone meant for this to go somewhere else-and it had landed on her desk instead.

Something sharp and cold coiled in her chest.

She shouldn't have seen this.

She absolutely should not have seen this.

And someone... somewhere... probably knew that by now.

Slowly, carefully, she removed the flash drive and tucked it back into the padded envelope, her hands trembling.

She needed to go to HR. No-to Internal Affairs. No... no, maybe directly to the authorities.

Her thoughts spiraled, each one more frantic than the last.

Before she could decide, a shadow loomed over her cubicle wall.

"Kira?"

She nearly jumped out of her skin.

It was Evan from IT. Smiling. Too casually. Too conveniently.

"We got an alert there was an unauthorized device plugged into your workstation," he said, adjusting his glasses. "Mind if I take a look?"

Her heartbeat crashed against her ribs.

How did they know so fast?

Her mouth dried. "I-I unplugged it already. It was a mistake. A miss delivery."

His smile thinned. "Still. I need to check your system."

Kira clutched the envelope under her desk, fingers digging into the paper.

Evan wasn't dangerous. He wasn't part of anything. He was... normal. Quiet. IT-guy normal.

But the way he looked at her computer-sharp, assessing-made her throat tighten.

Her world tilted.

Something was wrong.

Something was very, very wrong.

"Give me a minute," she whispered.

Evan opened his mouth to respond-

when a loud ping echoed through the building, announcing an urgent all-staff security meeting.

Evan's brow furrowed. "We'll talk after."

He walked away.

And Kira realized she was shaking uncontrollably.

Her life was no longer ordinary.

Her life was no longer safe.

Her life-by accident-had just collided with something monstrous.

As she reached for her phone to call for help, a new notification popped onto her screen-an internal message sent directly to her computer.

One line.

No sender.

No signature.

"We know what you saw."

Kira froze, staring at the message as if it might vanish if she blinked. Her vision blurred at the edges. Her fingers went numb. The message window pulsed, waiting for a response she would never give.

She slammed her laptop shut, chest tightening like a fist was squeezing her ribs.

Someone was watching her.

Right now.

Inside this building.

Inside this floor.

The office suddenly felt too loud, too bright, too suffocating. She grabbed the envelope with the flash drive and stuffed it into her bag. Her pulse thundered in her ears.

She needed to get out. Right now.

She stood on shaky legs, feeling as though a thousand invisible eyes followed her. Her cubicle walls felt too low, too thin. Every coworker suddenly looked like a stranger. Every stranger looked like a threat.

Her feet carried her down the hallway, past conference rooms filled with oblivious employees. No one knew. No one had any idea what she had stumbled into.

She passed the break room when she heard it:

"Did you secure the package?"

A voice. Deep. Serious. Coming from around the corner.

Her blood froze.

She pressed herself against the wall, heart in her throat.

"Not yet," another voice replied. "She's on the move. Level three. Wearing blue."

Kira looked down.

Blue blouse.

Blue cardigan.

Blue.

Her legs threatened to give out.

They weren't talking about a package.

They were talking about her.

Her lungs locked. Her fingers fumbled for her phone as she backed away silently.

She needed help. She needed a plan. She needed-

Her phone buzzed before she could dial.

A message.

Unknown number.

"Don't go to security. They're compromised. Go to the parking garage. Now."

Her breath caught.

Who was this?

Was this another trap?

A warning?

A lifeline?

She didn't know.

But she knew one thing: staying here meant death.

She forced her legs to move.

Down the stairs.

Down two flights.

Through the fire door.

Into the dim, echoing silence of the concrete garage.

Her steps echoed. Her breath came fast. Her palms sweated against her phone.

Lights flickered overhead.

She scanned the rows of cars. Nothing. No movement. No one.

Until-

A black SUV rolled slowly around the corner, headlights off.

Her heart stopped.

The same men she saw in the photos on the flash drive-dark clothing, tactical posture, unreadable faces-stepped out.

Not security.

Not coworkers.

Not normal.

They were here for her.

Kira stumbled backward, pulse hammering. She had no exit. No weapon. No plan.

But then-behind her-an engine roared to life.

A motorcycle.

A tall man with messy hair, a leather jacket, and a cocky half-smile lifted his visor.

"Kira Hale?" he called.

She stared in confusion and fear. "Who-who are you?"

He revved the engine. "I'm the only person here who doesn't want you dead. So unless you wanna get shot, get on."

Her pulse exploded.

She recognized him.

She had seen him once in a company newsletter about the CEO's estranged son.

Donovan Hale.

The black-sheep heir.

The scandal magnet.

The one who openly hated his father.

The men from the SUV reached inside their jackets.

"Kira," Donovan said sharply, holding out his hand, eyes blazing with urgency.

Gunshots exploded.

Kira felt Donovan yank her onto the bike just as a bullet shattered the concrete where she had been standing.

The motorcycle lurched forward-

and everything went black.

CHAPTER 3 - NUMBERS THAT LIED

When Kira woke, her world felt blurry and too loud.

The roar of an engine. The sting of cold air. The frantic beating of her own heart pulsing through her fingertips.

For a moment she didn't know where she was. She only knew motion-fast, whipping past her face, vibrating beneath her legs-and a strong hand gripping her waist.

Then everything snapped into focus.

The motorcycle.

The parking garage.

The gunshots.

Donovan Hale.

Her arms tightened instinctively around him as he leaned the bike into a sharp turn, tires screeching on asphalt. Wind punched against her ears, but it couldn't drown the pounding of her fear.

"Hold on," Donovan shouted over his shoulder, voice low and urgent.

As if she could do anything else.

They burst out of the garage and into a side street, weaving between cars. Kira kept her head down, her fingers trembling against his jacket. Her office building disappeared behind them, swallowed by glass towers and morning traffic.

Nothing made sense.

Her so-called ordinary job.

Her ordinary morning.

Her ordinary life-

None of it had been real. Or safe. Or hers.

Not anymore.

By the time Donovan slowed the bike and turned onto a quiet industrial road, Kira's mind had spiraled into a thousand questions and none of them had answers.

He finally pulled behind an abandoned warehouse and cut the engine. Silence fell so suddenly that she felt dizzy.

Donovan pulled off his helmet first. When he turned to her, the intensity in his eyes was enough to steal her breath.

"You good?" he asked.

She didn't answer. She couldn't.

Her hands were still trembling.

He reached out gently. "Kira-talk to me."

His voice wasn't mocking or amused like the rumors claimed he always was. It wasn't arrogant or careless. It was strangely... steady. Blunt, but steady.

Her throat tightened. "Who were those men?"

"Killers," Donovan said plainly. "My father's."

She swallowed, but the fear only thickened.

"And why," he continued, "is his cleanup team after a quiet little accountant who's never broken a rule in her life?"

Kira pulled the padded envelope from her bag with shaking fingers. "Because of this."

Donovan's brows lifted, but something sharper flickered behind his expression-as though he had expected this moment but dreaded it anyway.

Before she could second-guess herself, before she could breathe herself out of it, she opened the envelope and held out the flash drive.

Donovan stared at it quietly.

"A flash drive," he said flatly. "That's what made a kill team chase you across a parking garage?"

"You don't understand," she whispered. "I opened it. I saw things. Numbers... files... things that shouldn't exist."

Donovan's jaw tensed. "So you looked."

"I didn't mean to," she said quickly. "It showed up at my desk. It wasn't labeled. I thought it was a mistake-"

"It wasn't a mistake."

His tone was low. Hard.

Too certain.

Kira's pulse stuttered. "You know something."

"Yeah," Donovan said, running a hand through his hair. "Unfortunately."

He motioned toward an old metal stairway leading up the side of the warehouse. "Come on. We can't stay outside."

Inside, the warehouse was dim but not abandoned-not completely. There were two camping chairs, a stack of bottled water, and a laptop on a crate. Not a living space... but a hideout.

"Sit," Donovan said softly.

She did.

He dragged a crate in front of her and sat across from her, elbows on his knees, the flash drive between them like something radioactive.

"Tell me exactly what you saw."

The memory hit her all at once-files and spreadsheets and horrifying labels that had lodged themselves like splinters in her mind.

"Ledger transfers," she whispered. "Millions sent to places that don't exist on the books. Payments labeled with operation names. There were photos. Audio recordings." She hesitated. "Your father was on them."

Donovan let out a low curse.

"He said something about... clearing loose ends. He said 'no survivors.'"

His face went still.

Something dark passed behind his eyes that made her chest constrict-not fear, but a strange, quiet empathy.

"I've been trying to expose him for years," Donovan said. "But I never had proof. He hides everything behind layers of shell accounts and private consultants. No paper trail. No digital trail." His gaze sharpened on the flash drive. "Until now."

Kira's breath caught.

"You think this could bring him down?"

"If it's real?" Donovan said. "It could burn his entire empire to the ground."

She looked down at her shaking hands. "I didn't ask for any of this."

"No," he agreed softly. "You didn't."

Kira's throat tightened again. "I just wanted-"

She couldn't even say it.

I just wanted a normal morning.

Donovan leaned forward slightly. "Look at me."

She did. Slowly.

"You're in danger," he said. "Real danger. They won't stop until they get that drive or silence you. So you have two choices."

"Two?" she echoed, voice thin.

"One: You walk away and go into hiding. Alone. But they'll still come."

She shivered.

"Or two," Donovan said, "you stay with me-because I'm the only one who knows how my father thinks, and I'm the only one who wants him exposed as badly as you do."

Her heart thudded.

"You want me to stay with you?"

"I want you alive," he said.

Kira's breath caught somewhere between fear and something she couldn't name.

The flash drive sat between them, small, silent, and devastating.

She lifted it slowly.

"If we open it again," she whispered, "I'll show you everything."

Donovan nodded, reaching for the laptop. "Then let's see what kind of monster my father really is."

But before he could plug it in-

before their fingers even brushed against the device-

Glass shattered above them.

Kira screamed as a black-clad figure dropped through the window, landing behind Donovan with predatory precision.

A gun cocked.

"I found them," the intruder said into a radio.

Donovan grabbed Kira and pulled her down as the first bullet tore through the air.

The flash drive flew from Kira's hand-

sliding across the floor-

straight toward the intruder's boot.

And he bent down to pick it up.

Time fractured.

Kira didn't breathe. Didn't blink. Didn't think.

All she saw was the gloved hand reaching for the flash drive-the one thing that could expose everything, protect her, and damn Richard Hale's empire.

"NO!" she cried before she even realized the voice was hers.

The intruder's head snapped up.

Donovan moved first.

With a speed that didn't match his relaxed, troublemaker façade, he lunged forward and slammed his shoulder into the man. The impact knocked both of them sideways, sending the gun skidding across the concrete floor.

"Kira-RUN!" he shouted.

Her pulse exploded. Her legs moved before her mind caught up. She grabbed the nearest metal pipe from the floor-rusty, heavy-and sprinted toward the flash drive.

The intruder recovered faster than she expected. He shoved Donovan back, spun, and reached for the flash drive again.

So did she.

Their fingers brushed the floor at the same time.

The man glared at her. "You shouldn't have looked at it."

Kira didn't know she could move that fast or that decisively. She swung the pipe with all the fear, panic, and adrenaline roaring through her.

The metal cracked against his forearm.

He hissed in pain, jerking away-and the flash drive shot out from under his boots, skittering across the floor and disappearing under a stack of old pallets.

"Kira, GO!" Donovan shouted again, grappling the man from behind.

But Kira wasn't running. Not without the drive.

Not after everything.

Not after almost dying for it.

Not when it held the truth.

She scrambled toward the pallets, heart hammering. She reached under, fingers brushing dust, splintered wood, a crushed bottle-

There.

A small, cold, rectangular shape.

The flash drive.

She grabbed it-

A gunshot exploded.

Kira screamed and ducked, clutching the drive to her chest. The bullet struck the pallet behind her, sending splinters into her arm.

"DROP IT!" the intruder roared.

She crawled backward, breath coming in broken gasps.

Donovan grabbed the man's wrist, slamming it against a metal beam. The gun clattered to the floor and slid into the shadows.

"You picked the wrong woman to hunt," Donovan snarled.

The man punched him across the jaw-hard enough that Donovan staggered. But he didn't fall.

He looked furious now. Focused. Deadly in a way Kira had never imagined from the man her company whispered about as a scandal magnet.

"Get her," the intruder spat.

Before Donovan could react, the man charged Kira.

She scrambled up, clutching the flash drive. Her legs screamed with pain, but she kept moving, dodging behind a row of steel beams.

He followed.

"Give me the drive," he said, voice low. "Do that, and maybe we don't have to kill you."

Maybe.

Not promising.

Not reassuring.

Not believable.

Kira pressed herself against the metal structure.

Every instinct told her she shouldn't be here.

She wasn't trained for this.

She wasn't brave enough for this.

She wasn't-

But she was still alive.

And she intended to stay that way.

She held the pipe tightly. "Come and take it."

The man smiled coldly.

Before he could step forward, Donovan appeared behind him-silently, swiftly-and slammed a metal beam into the back of his head.

The man collapsed instantly.

Kira dropped the pipe, shaking violently. Her entire body felt like it might give out.

Donovan rushed to her, catching her before she fell.

"Are you hurt?" he asked breathlessly, hands gripping her arms, eyes scanning her for wounds.

"I-I'm fine," she whispered. "I got the drive."

He let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh. "Of course you did."

Her limbs were trembling. His hands were still on her shoulders. Their faces were inches apart. Too close. Close enough for her to see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes, the worry etched across his expression.

"You're braver than you think, Kira."

She opened her mouth but nothing came out except a shaky breath.

Their moment shattered when the intruder groaned on the floor.

"He's waking up," Kira whispered.

Donovan grabbed her hand. "We need to go. There'll be more coming."

Together, they sprinted out the back exit of the warehouse, their footsteps echoing against the cracked pavement.

They climbed onto the motorcycle. Kira held onto him, her fingers digging into his jacket.

As Donovan started the engine, Kira looked over her shoulder.

The warehouse door burst open. Two more black-clad figures stepped out.

One lifted a radio to his ear.

"Kira Hale has the drive. Repeat-Kira Hale has the drive."

Her blood turned to ice.

"Donovan-"

"I know," he said, voice grim. "Hold on, because from this point forward-there's no turning back."

The motorcycle shot forward into the rising sun.

As they sped away, Kira's phone buzzed in her pocket.

One message.

Unknown number.

"They're not the only ones coming for you."

CHAPTER 4 - THE FLASH DRIVE

They didn't stop riding until the city fell behind them, swallowed by distance, dust, and the steady thrum of the motorcycle beneath them.

Kira didn't realize how tightly she'd been holding Donovan until he finally slowed down on a deserted rural road, bordered by tall grass and scattered storage lots. He pulled into an old service yard hidden behind rusted shipping containers and dismounted, breathing hard.

"Here," he said quietly. "No cameras. No company assets. No one comes here except me."

Kira slid off the bike, legs shaky, adrenaline still coursing through her bloodstream. She held the flash drive like it was a living creature capable of betraying or saving her.

The drive felt heavier now. Much heavier.

Donovan led her into an unused maintenance shed filled with old equipment, dusty shelves, and a portable generator. He kicked it on, filling the room with low, steady buzzing and enough power for a single lamp and an old laptop sitting on a wooden crate.

Kira hesitated.

The last time she'd opened this drive, her life had exploded.

Donovan noticed her expression and stepped closer. "We do this together. No surprises."

She nodded, swallowing her nerves.

He opened the laptop, its screen dim and scratched. "Let's see exactly what you stumbled into."

Kira plugged in the flash drive with trembling fingers.

The folder appeared immediately-CONFIDENTIAL - PROJECT HAWKFALL.

Her stomach twisted.

But when Donovan clicked it open, she realized there were far more files than she remembered. Dozens more. Hundreds, maybe.

"How... how did they get more?" she whispered.

"They didn't," Donovan said. "You didn't scroll down all the way before, did you?"

She shook her head. No, she hadn't. She'd barely scratched the surface.

Donovan exhaled deeply. "Alright. Let's go through them one by one."

They started with the spreadsheets.

Kira leaned in, scanning the numbers.

Her brain, built for patterns and consistency, recognized the irregularities instantly. Rows that didn't align. Columns labeled in misdirection. Transfers too large, too frequent, too deliberately masked.

Embezzlement on a scale she'd never imagined.

"Donovan," she whispered, pointing at a coded column, "this is money pulled from pension funds."

He stiffened. "My father would. He's always been able to live with consequences he never intends to face."

Kira clicked the next tab.

Bribery logs-thinly disguised as "consultation fees" or "expedited services." Names of officials. Government departments. Judges.

Her heart sank lower with each row.

"This is a whole... network," she whispered. "Not just a few dirty transactions."

"It's a web," Donovan said. "And my father is right at the center."

She scrolled further.

Emails.

Internal memos.

Documents labeled with chilling simplicity:

FIELD CLEANUP REPORTS

ASSET REMOVAL SUMMARIES

INCIDENT CORRECTIONS

Her hands trembled as she opened one:

Incident: Employee #73944 - Accountant

Issue: Attempted report of financial discrepancies

Correction Status: Completed

Kira clamped a hand over her mouth.

"The accountant," she whispered, voice cracking. "They... they killed him."

Donovan didn't respond at first. His jaw tightened, anger simmering just under the surface.

"You see now?" he said quietly. "My father doesn't run a corporation. He runs a crime dynasty with a marketing budget."

Kira kept scrolling even though every instinct begged her to stop.

The next file was a video thumbnail.

Donovan clicked it before she could protest.

The footage flickered to life-grainy, poorly lit, but clear enough to recognize the warehouse. Men in tactical gear. A bound man in a chair. Voices murmuring commands.

Kira flinched as a shot rang out on the screen.

She turned away, tears stinging her eyes.

"This isn't corporate crime," she whispered. "This is murder. Organized murder."

Donovan reached out-hesitated-and finally rested a steady hand on her shoulder. His touch was warm, grounding. She didn't pull away.

"Kira," he said softly, "you didn't do anything wrong. This landed on your desk because someone wanted it found. Someone inside."

She blinked. "You think someone tried to leak this?"

"There's no other explanation," Donovan said. "And if they chose an accountant instead of a director or a manager... they wanted someone clean. Someone honest. Someone who wouldn't be suspected."

Her chest tightened. "They chose me."

He gave a short nod.

"Then someone in your father's empire is trying to stop him," she murmured, "and I'm caught in the middle."

"You're not alone anymore," Donovan said.

She looked at him-really looked at him.

The rebellious son.

The black sheep.

The disappointment of the empire.

But also the only one standing between her and a death squad.

Kira clicked another file in silence.

A folder labeled:

PRIORITY TARGET LIST - ACTIVE

She froze.

Her name was third.

Third.

Highlighted.

With a red note:

APPROACH WITH LETHAL FORCE. DO NOT NEGOTIATE.

Her mouth went dry.

Donovan saw it. His face darkened. "We need to get moving. Now."

Kira stared numbly at the list.

The first name-a whistleblower. Marked eliminated.

The second-an investigator. Missing.

Her-active threat.

"I'm going to die," she whispered.

"No," Donovan said fiercely, grabbing her hands. "Not while I'm breathing."

His conviction settled something inside her-something trembling, terrified, suspended between panic and determination.

She closed the folder.

But one last icon caught her eye.

A red file.

Locked.

Encrypted.

Only accessible with two-factor authentication.

The label:

Hawking Protocol - Final Directive

Kira clicked it.

A password prompt appeared.

Donovan leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "That's new. I've never seen that."

Right as she started to ask what it meant-

The laptop screen glitched.

Then flickered.

Then a new line of text appeared:

USER ACTIVITY DETECTED. LOCATION LOGGED. RESPONSE TEAM DEPLOYED.

Kira's blood turned cold.

"Donovan..."

He was already closing the laptop, already grabbing the drive, already pulling her toward the exit.

"We have to leave," he said sharply. "They found us."

"But how-?"

"The drive is tracked," he said. "We awakened a geotag the moment we opened certain files."

Her pulse thundered. "How long do we have?"

He didn't even slow.

"Two minutes."

Part I Cliffhanger:

Before Kira could breathe, a low rumble shook the ground outside-

the sound of multiple engines closing in.

Then a voice through a megaphone:

"Kira Hale. Donovan Hale. Step out. Now."

The shed rattled as vehicles screeched to a halt outside-big ones, heavy ones. Kira heard doors slam. Boots hitting gravel. Voices barking commands.

"They're surrounding us," she whispered, pulse spiraling.

"Yeah," Donovan muttered grimly, "they're not playing around."

He yanked open a back maintenance door and pushed her toward it. "Go. Stay low."

She stumbled into the narrow alley between containers. The air smelled like rust and hot metal. Donovan followed, pulling the door shut behind them, locking the latch.

She heard more footsteps. Closer now.

"Donovan?"

"Don't stop," he said. "We get to the bike, we move."

"But-"

"Kira."

His voice sharpened.

"We don't survive if you freeze."

She nodded, breath shaking. She forced her legs to move.

They crawled between stacked containers, through narrow passageways littered with discarded tools and old rope. Donovan checked every corner before letting her move. He kept one hand on her back, steadying her when she stumbled.

The sound of tactical boots spread across the yard.

"They're splitting up," Donovan whispered. "Trying to flank."

A shiver shot down Kira's spine.

He pulled her into a wider gap and flattened both of them behind a broken forklift. The air between them hummed with tension.

"We need a distraction," he murmured.

"How?" she whispered back.

Donovan dug into his pocket, pulling out a small metal object.

A lighter.

Kira frowned. "You're planning to smoke our way out?"

He smirked, flicking it open. "Not quite."

Before she could ask, he grabbed an old oil rag from the forklift floor, doused it in leftover engine fuel, lit it, and tossed it across the yard.

It landed on a pile of wooden pallets that instantly burst into flames.

Shouts erupted.

"There! Fire! Move!"

Smoke thickened, curling up into the sky.

"Now," Donovan whispered.

They ran.

Kira's lungs burned. Sweat slid down her temple. Behind her, through the smoke, she heard the team scrambling to contain the spreading flames-just long enough, she hoped, to give them a chance.

Donovan rounded the last row of containers-

And stopped dead.

Kira crashed into his back. "What-?"

Her words died.

Their escape route was blocked.

Three black SUVs.

A team of armed men.

All facing them.

A man stepped forward.

Tall. Immaculate suit. Cold eyes.

Kira's stomach plummeted.

She recognized him.

Richard Hale's right-hand enforcer. The man whispered about in hallways. The man every employee feared.

Wells.

His voice was smooth, chilling. "Donovan. Your father is disappointed."

Donovan didn't flinch. "He can send me a birthday card."

Wells' eyes slid to Kira.

"And you... the accountant." He said it like an insult. "So ordinary. So timid. And yet you've created such a messy problem for us."

Kira stepped back instinctively.

Donovan moved in front of her.

Wells smiled thinly. "Hand over the flash drive, and we'll make this easier."

Kira clutched the drive inside her pocket, fingers shaking.

"And if we don't?" Donovan asked.

"Then," Wells said calmly, "my men shoot you both where you stand."

The team raised their weapons.

Kira's breath caught.

She wasn't ready to die.

Not like this.

Not after everything she'd seen.

Her fingers brushed Donovan's arm, trembling.

He murmured without turning, "Trust me."

She almost laughed-terrified and delirious-because what choice did she have?

"Three seconds," Wells warned. "Three. Two-"

Donovan suddenly grabbed a metal hook from the ground and hurled it at a nearby propane tank.

It struck hard.

The tank sparked.

Wells' eyes widened. "NO-!"

The explosion tore through the yard, a burst of violent heat and smoke.

Kira screamed as Donovan dragged her to the ground, shielding her with his body.

The world shook.

Shouts erupted. Gunshots fired blindly through the haze.

"Kira-MOVE!" Donovan yelled, pulling her up.

They sprinted through the smoke, stumbling and coughing, nearly tripping over debris.

She saw the motorcycle-just ahead-its chrome glinting through the chaos.

"We'll never make it!" she cried.

"We don't have a choice!"

They ran.

Bullets whizzed past.

Someone shouted her name.

The smoke thinned-

and Kira saw a figure emerging from the fog, raising a gun.

Pointed directly at her.

She froze.

"KIRA!" Donovan shouted, too far away to reach her.

The man's finger tightened on the trigger-

Before the shot fired, a new vehicle screeched into the yard-

a black motorcycle-

ridden by someone Kira had never seen before.

The rider aimed a gun at the man targeting her and yelled:

"KIRA HALE! GET DOWN IF YOU WANT TO LIVE!"