The government operatives didn't move like men; they moved like machines, their eyes hidden behind polarized lenses that reflected the rising sun. They fanned out across the pier, the click of their shoes on the concrete sounding like the ticking of a countdown clock. Elena didn't flinch. She leaned back against her silver bike, a cold, triumphant smirk playing on her lips as she watched the trap snap shut around us.
"Mia Chen," the lead operative said, his voice as flat and sterilized as a hospital room. "My name is Director Vance. You are currently in possession of state-classified intellectual property. Under the National Security Act, we are authorized to recover the prototype and the data by any means necessary."
"Classified?" I spat, the adrenaline from the race still sizzling in m
