The SUV screeched to a bone-jarring halt in front of a derelict warehouse on the fringes of the abandoned docks. Aris vaulted out, securing the perimeter with a long-range rifle, while in the backseat, Alaric still held Anna in a crushing embrace. Their breath mingled—heavy, heated, and jagged—as the remnants of the passion sparked by the adrenaline of their escape saturated the cabin.
"Out, Anna. We're out of time," Alaric rasped, his eyes fixed on the smart key clutched in her hand.
They moved into the warehouse, which revealed a hidden sanctuary of high-end server technology buried behind reinforced concrete. Alaric wasted no time, slotting the key into the primary console. A massive screen flickered to life, hemorrhaging thousands of lines of the Syndicate's illicit data.
"We have it," Anna whispered, her trembling fingers grazing the cold metal of the desk. "Everything we need to bury Victor is right here."
