The alarm didn't wail.
It growled.
A deep, mechanical sound that crawled through the concrete halls like a living beast.
Layla's breath hitched.
The monitors in the hidden chamber flashed red, streams of unauthorized access searing across the screen like fire through dry grass.
Rhea's jaw tightened.
"They're inside," she whispered.
For one suspended second, the room seemed to hold its breath.
Then the first blast of static hissed from the speakers.
The enemy had breached the facility.
Layla's mind screamed for her to run.
Her legs twitched.
But the sight of the flashing screen anchored her.
She couldn't abandon the evidence.
She turned to Rhea.
"We back up everything," she barked.
Rhea's eyes met hers.
Without another word, they sprang into action.
Layla snatched a backup drive and inserted it into the port nearest the central terminal.
Her fingers flew over the keyboard with practiced precision.
Rhea pulled cables loose, isolating the active network pathways to prevent further intrusion.
The monitors danced in bursts of white and red.
Every second counted.
A heavy thud echoed down the corridor.
Another.
Then footsteps—multiple, heavy, deliberate.
The building's emergency lights flickered again, plunging the hall into half-light and shadow.
Layla's pulse surged.
"Shall we hide?" she whispered.
Rhea shook her head.
"We stand. If we run, they'll find us anyway."
Layla's eyes flashed.
"I'm not running."
Rhea's lips curved into a grim smile.
"Good."
Layla's phone buzzed violently against the console.
Cole's name burned on the screen.
She snatched it up.
"Layla?!" His voice crackled, urgent but calm.
"We're being hit," she whispered, barely able to breathe.
"I'm on my way," he replied instantly.
"Don't come alone," she urged.
"I won't," he promised.
The connection dropped.
Layla's jaw clenched.
"I knew it."
Rhea's eyes narrowed.
"What do you mean?"
"They wouldn't send him without backup," Layla snapped.
Her eyes hardened.
"They're planning to trap us."
A low rumble vibrated through the floor beneath their feet.
The steel vault door to the corridor began to tremble.
A dull metallic clanging echoed in waves, followed by sharp, coordinated impacts.
Someone—or something—was trying to break through.
Layla's hand went to the pen at her waist.
Her eyes darted between the flashing monitors and the door.
Her heart hammered against her ribcage.
But she didn't flinch.
Rhea leaned close, her eyes intense.
"We can run through the maintenance tunnels. It's risky, but faster."
Layla hesitated.
"Or we stay and fight?"
The question hung between them like a blade.
Her instinct screamed to escape.
But her soul refused.
This was the moment they'd been preparing for.
This was what they had uncovered.
If they fled now, all their work would be lost.
Layla's eyes hardened.
"We stay."
Rhea's lips curved.
"Good."
Together, they barricaded the inner door.
Rhea grabbed metal shelving units and pushed them against the frame.
Layla pulled thick server cables and looped them across the entrance, making a crude but effective barrier.
She dragged spare monitors to the corners, angling them toward the door like sentries watching over the room.
"This'll slow them," Rhea said through gritted teeth.
"It's enough," Layla replied.
They locked eyes.
A silent agreement passed between them.
They would not let the enemy take this evidence.
Not without a fight.
The heavy door finally gave way.
A jagged seam of light slit through the barricade before the shelves buckled and crashed forward.
Two figures stormed through the debris—masked, armored, faces hidden in darkness.
They carried suppressed weapons, but their intent was clear.
Layla's breath caught.
Her hand tightened around the pen.
Rhea's eyes narrowed with steely resolve.
For one wild second, Layla's body tensed to run.
But then the lead intruder raised his weapon—not to fire—but to push past them and snatch the terminal.
Without thinking, Layla hurled the steel pen like a dagger.
It struck the intruder's wrist with a sharp crack.
The weapon wavered.
Rhea lunged beside her, grabbing the monitor's frame and swinging it with all her strength.
The intruder stumbled.
Layla's eyes blazed.
"Stay back!" she shouted.
The intruders froze for a beat—staring at two women who refused to cower.
Then, without warning, the second intruder pulled a stun baton from his belt.
The tip glowed electric blue.
Rhea's eyes widened.
"Brace yourself."
Layla's fingers trembled on the backup drive.
The screen scrolled faster.
Files zipped from the terminal to the drive.
The progress bar inched toward completion.
The intruder raised the baton—its crackling arc inches from Rhea's neck.
Layla's breath caught.
Her mind screamed.
Fight. Run. Scream.
But none of those came.
Instead, she locked eyes with Rhea.
Their gaze held steady.
No fear.
No retreat.
Only resolve.
Just as the intruder's baton swung forward, another sound sliced the air.
A sharp crack.
Then the unmistakable roar of boots pounding the hallway.
More than one pair.
Reinforcements.
Cole's backup team was here.
The intruders froze, eyes darting toward the door.
Rhea's eyes sparkled with grim satisfaction.
Layla's lips parted.
Relief, fear, and fury collided inside her like lightning.
The door burst open again.
Figures in tactical gear flooded the hallway.
The intruders hesitated for only a heartbeat.
Then, with a guttural growl, they lunged toward the corridor's opening—backing out into the shadows.
Cole's team fired warning shots into the ceiling.
"Drop your weapons!" the lead officer barked.
The intruders faltered, then retreated.
For now.
Layla's hands shook as she removed the backup drive.
The files were secure.
The evidence—untouched.
Rhea's eyes softened.
"You stood your ground."
Layla's lips curved in a weary but triumphant smile.
"We stood together."
Her phone vibrated again.
A message from Cole.
"We're here. Secure the room. We've got your back."
Tears blurred Layla's vision—but she didn't cry.
Not yet.
Instead, she closed the door.
And turned back to the monitors.
The battle had only begun.
But they were ready.