The radio didn’t just go silent. It felt like the static had sucked all the oxygen out of the collapsed room.
Michael held the blood-slicked plastic for exactly three seconds. He didn’t wait for Ryan to find his voice. He simply closed his fist. The heavy-duty military comms unit cracked, then shattered into jagged plastic shrapnel that dug into his palm. He let the pieces fall into the pulverized concrete.
He didn’t look angry. That was the most terrifying part.
The feral, chaotic beast that had just torn a hit squad to shreds was gone, locked back inside its cage. In its place stood the surgeon. The tactician. His bespoke suit was torn at the shoulder, coated in a thick layer of gray dust and arterial spray, but his posture was terrifyingly immaculate.
He turned to Jane. His golden e
