At 8 a.m., the sun had yet to fully dispel the damp fog from the streets of Los Angeles, but the B6 team’s office was already immersed in a rare sense of “bustle”—everyone except Diana had arrived on time, a rare occurrence.
There was little sense of urgency in the office. There were no sudden murders, no distress signals—the entire team seemed to have suddenly retreated from the brink of crisis, temporarily sinking into a state of idle contentment.
Ronan leaned against the wall playing a handheld game, Adrian curled up on the sofa snoring lightly, Silas lifted weights with headphones on, while Mercer sat by the window, his gaze vacant, as if lost in some unarchived memory.
Bruce glanced at everyone and silently left the rest area. His destination was the underground firing range, a gra
