The Gulfstream bucked as the pilot pushed the engines into a screaming overspeed. Outside, the serene Pacific horizon was being sliced by the silver streaks of three interceptors. They weren't marked with the familiar insignia of a government; they were sleek, anonymous, and terrifyingly fast. Marcello’s final betrayal hadn't just been a digital leak; it was a beacon for the Commission’s private wing of hunters.
Roman stood in the center of the vibrating cabin, his legs braced against the floor like he was rooted to the very core of the earth. He didn't look at the radar. He looked at me, his eyes dark with a protective, lethal fire.
"Viktor! Flares!" Roman roared over the intercom. "Get the girl into the reinforced seat. Now!"
Viktor scrambled from the cockpit, his face a mask of grim
