Thick smoke billowed into the air, mixing with dust and flying debris. Gunfire erupted nonstop, echoing off concrete walls scarred by explosions. Killian felt a burning sting in his arm, probably from hot shrapnel or a grazing bullet. He shrugged it off, his eyes narrowing as he peered through the suffocating haze.
Across the shattered room, a shadow moved. Killian recognized the silhouette, Erick Stamp. That bastard had managed to escape, thanks to a group of armed goons hustling to get him out. Dressed in all black, with assault rifles gripped tight, there weren’t just one or two of them, there were at least a dozen. They moved fast, securing Stamp and escorting him through the chaos of the blast, taking the virus prototype with them.
This is insane! If he lost that prototype again, th
