The safehouse was silent except for the soft hum of electronics and the distant rumble of traffic outside. The team had scattered through the rooms, seeking what rest they could find in the aftermath of the strike. The data drive was secured in a shielded case, its contents replicated across three separate backups that Axel had insisted on before allowing anyone to sleep. The financial records were a weapon of immense power, and the team knew it.
Caleb sat at the window, watching the first light of dawn touch the rooftops. The city was stirring, its streets filling with the slow tide of morning commuters. He had not slept. The adrenaline had faded, but the weight of what they had done—what they were about to do—kept him awake. The Prime would retaliate. They always did. The only question
