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Amelia

“Fuck!”

Zane’s strained whisper snapped my attention away from the screen. I was seated beside him, combing through eight years of Pentagon data—oldest to newest. Zane was working from newest to oldest, the plan being to meet somewhere in the middle.

Two days in, and progress was crawling.

There was still no mention—no whisper—of the Doom Switch. Or anything that could be perceived as the Doom Switch.

“What happened?” I asked cautiously.

Zane stood up abruptly, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he muttered, already pacing.

Without another word, he stormed off to his private office. A moment later, he returned holding a small, round device, fiddling with its controls.

“Get the team assembled here,” he said, eyes glued to the device.

I frowned. “What’s going on?”

“Get the team,” he snapped, moving to the door. “I’m removing Ronan’s RLM chip. They’ve known about the Remote Location Monitor for at least six weeks. Maybe longer. I don’t know if they’ve already infiltrated the network, but I’m not risking it.”

And then he was gone.

Thirty minutes later, all of us were seated in the Command Center, identical bandages now pressed to our chests where the chips used to be.

All except Logan.

He had already lost his RLM during the warehouse 67 explosion and never got it replaced considering the damage to his chest.

He was leaning back in his chair, arms folded, wearing the world’s most smug grin. “Awww… does it hurt?” he asked no one in particular, not even bothering to hide the amusement.

I rolled my eyes, instinctively rubbing the sore spot under my bandage.

“Yes, Logan,” Kaylan replied flatly, faking a wince.

His smirk vanished like someone had flipped a switch. His expression morphed into full concern, his brows furrowing as he turned to her.

It wasn’t until she snorted that he finally relaxed.

It was ridiculous, really.

And if I hadn’t been in such a shitty mood, I might’ve laughed—just like everyone else did.

Kabir

“It’s really interesting how I never got a chance to meet you before,” Romano said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

He’d summoned me after weeks of deliberate silence. Classic tactic—build mystique, manufacture power. Make me sweat.

I didn’t.

I saw right through it. He wasn’t intimidating. He was threatened. And I knew exactly when that shift happened.

Thirty-four minutes. That’s how long it took me to shut down the Pentagon’s entire Crazon surveillance layer using Sentrix v5.4. It was my interview assignment. After that, he stopped treating me like a tool and started treating me like a weapon.

Asset. That’s all I was to him.

I guess it wasn’t new to me.

The Pentagon looked elegant from the outside, but inside, it felt like a precinct had crashed into a maximum-security prison. No warmth. Just walls and wires.

At least their command center was equipped to handle a mind like mine.

“You only ever spoke to the Squad Leaders, Callahan ,” I said coolly.

His smile twitched. “My mother’s second husband’s last name was Callahan. I liked it. But I’ve always felt more like a Romano.”

He said it like it meant something. Like a villain introducing himself with a backstory.

I quirked a brow.

“My mother’s maiden name,” he chuckled like we were some casual acquaintances.

I didn’t flinch. “What do you want, Romano?”

He clicked his pen once. Twice. “Two things. One—you’ll be pleased to know your girlfriend woke up. No brain damage.”

The oxygen hit like a sucker punch.

My Lia is alive.

For a brief second I allowed my body to react. My chest heaved, but I was quick to mask it.

He grinned. “Thought that would get a reaction.”

I clenched my jaw. “And the second thing?”

“Oh, just a favor. I need you to get your team to back off. They’ve been sticking their hands where they don’t belong. Sloppy, childish.”

“They’re not my team,” I said flatly. “Not anymore.”

He tilted his head with mock sympathy. “Come on, Cipher. You think I don’t know you’re trying to play both sides? You think I didn’t plan for that?”

He stood, casually circled his desk like a predator, and stopped inches from me.

“You don’t think I know about DaLia?”

I didn’t blink. Fine. He knew. That wasn’t the real game.

The real game was who played their hand wrong first.

I stepped forward, invading his space. “I’m here, Romano. I left. You don’t need to hold a gun to my head to pull the puppet strings.”

I threw my hands out like I was welcoming the blast. “I’m all tethered and ready.”

He scoffed at my bravado and stepped back, dismissive. “Use whatever leverage you need. You know them well, don’t you? Use it.”

He turned and sat down again, flipping through something on his desk like I wasn’t still standing there.

“Close the door on your way out.”

I left.

My heart was hammering, but I didn’t let it show. I didn’t know what my next move would be. I just knew the message had to be delivered.

Blackthorn would soon hear from Cipher.

Not Kabir Gill.

Cipher—the man who betrayed them.

Cipher—the one who’d tell them to stand down or die.

Cipher—the rogue asset.

???

I’d finished recording the video and packaged the files. Tomorrow morning, I’d send them to Blackthorn Security.

I had no idea how they’d respond.

Would they actually back off?

I highly doubted that.

My team was many things—but cowering wasn’t one of them. They weren’t built to retreat.

If anything, they’d double down.

My mind raced with possibilities of what could potentially go wrong.

Somewhere inside Blackthorn, someone had turned. Romano’s rat. Every tech team member had been with us for years—loyal, vetted, solid.

Which meant we hadn’t accidentally hired a traitor.

Romano had just… made one. He had to be leveraging something.

I let out a breath, heavy and tired, and looked around the sterile little room they’d stuck me in.

A chair.

A table.

A twin bed.

That was it.

Nowhere near the comfort of Blackthorn’s base, but still better than the half-rotted safe houses from our Squad Six days.

This apartment—if it even deserved the term—was close enough to the Pentagon to matter, but not close enough to tap into anything. I needed another way in.

I powered up DaLia .

There was no point hiding my moves anymore. They knew I’d be digging. Still, I routed through dummy networks. Just in case.

I needed to upgrade Sentrix v5.4, but to do that, I had to understand how the Doom Switch worked. Wherever the hell they’d buried it.

DaLia booted in seconds.

I sank into protocol after protocol, tunneling through encrypted blocks, hunting. And waiting.

I had a theory—Romlinson Signature was just the tip. These three bastards were definitely running more than one business. Had to be.

Well… two bastards now. Garret Tyson was currently 200 meters beneath Lake Michigan.

Seven hours in, I was ready to call it.

The sun had started creeping in through the blinds. My vision was fogged, the code on screen blurring.

And then—there it was.

Buried under layer after layer of digital static.

Thirty-three companies.

Major ones.

Global.

I stared.

No fucking way.

They were all owned by Romlinson Conglomerate.

Thirty-three goddamn companies… not just in weapons or tech. They’d acquired all major banks. Defense manufacturers. Energy conglomerates. Five of the world’s biggest oil producers.

And their newest acquisition?

Semiconductors.

Shit.

They’d taken over the backbone of modern economy—everything from missile guidance systems to smartphones ran on chips. If you controlled semiconductors, you controlled innovation, defense, information.

This wasn’t about destruction.

It was about dominion.

Global control—quiet, invisible.

Irreversible.