Cain's hand stayed glued to the breaker until his fingers tingled. The Grid keened, a long animal howl that crawled through the spire and out into the city like a wounded bell. For a breathless second it felt as though the whole building might wrench itself free and fall inward. Then the lights went sick, flicked, and died in rows like teeth being pulled.
Boots thundered above; the hunters had found the breach. The vibration ran down the shaft and into Cain's bones. Roselle's voice was steel: "Positions. Now."
They spread like a careful wound. Steve hunched at the console, coaxing the dying map into shapes. Smoke curled from a half-melted relay; sparks stitched the air. Hunter moved with a diplomat's calm, but his jaw worked under his skin. Susan leaned her shoulder against a server bank and breathed, slow and shallow, as if counting the moment between life and violence.
"We buy time," Cain said. "Not because they deserve it, but because we need to make it count."
