Krystal’s POV
The flare was not exploded. There was nothing of that, but my pulse was already counting in.
I was seated cross-legged, at what looked like the edge of the only rooftop. The wind whipped by like the invisible fingers along the ledge. Colt had left his laptop on my desk and the screen was flashing with moving lines of code, interspaced with static and still shots of the surveillance feed on the server net. The standby battery flashed amber.
Eight minutes. That would have been all where the connection had been made. Eight minutes which could turn everything around, or nothing.
I made an attempt not to reflect on the little girl with terrified gaze. Or that we had not, thought of civilians, much less children, remaining behind. I did not want to think of Colt's face when he
