Page 157 of Daggermouth

By tonight, it could be burning.

Callum pressed his forehead against the cool glass, closing his eyes against the view. The plan they’d constructed was full of gaps, of variables they couldn’t control.

All of it had to work perfectly. All of it had to happen in precise synchronization.

If it didn’t—

His mind conjured images of slaughter. Of Boundary residents gunned down in streets they’d barely glimpsed. Of Cardinal rebels executed where they stood. Of Jaeger’s assassins falling before they could reach their targets.

But worse, infinitely worse, was the image of Lira in her father’s hands if they failed. Callum’s fist clenched at his side, knuckles white with strain. Maximus wouldn’t simply kill his daughter if he discovered her betrayal. Death would be a mercy compared to what he would do. Callum had seen enough of the President’s handiwork to know that Maximus Serel’s creativity extended far beyond governance and into the realm of torture.

He returned to his desk, dropping heavily into his chair. The screens before him showed various feeds from around the Heart—the plaza where the Vow ceremony would take place, the checkpoints between rings, the approach to Maximus’s tower. All quiet now. All normal.

It wouldn’t last.

His thoughts drifted back to Lira, to the weight of her in his arms just days ago. To the taste of her skin, the sound of her breath against his ear, the way her body had yielded to his after five long years of restraint. Five years of longing.

He hadn’t seen her since the conclusion of their meeting in the Boundary forty-eight hours ago. Something in the way she’d looked at him when he took her back to her apartment, when she told him she needed space to think, scared him. He could feel it.

He’d just gotten her back and he was already losing her.

He’d known it was a possibility when she found out that he’d known about Brooker. He’d thought about leaving her in the Heart for that veryreason. But they’d said no more lies, and he wasn’t willing to break his promise to her.

If they failed today, Maximus would make her suffer in ways that would break even Lira’s iron will. He would take his time. Would extract every detail of the conspiracy before he finally allowed her to die. And he would make sure she watched everyone she loved die first.

Callum’s breathing became shallow, his chest tightening with every breath. He forced himself to inhale deeply, to regain control. Panic would not help any of them.

He needed to focus. Needed to be the calculating, ruthless man who’d built an empire in the Heart, who’d infiltrated its highest circles, who’d learned to smile while plotting the downfall of those who trusted him.

His phone vibrated against the desk, screen illuminating with Jameson’s encrypted contact ID. Callum’s hand shot out, snatching it up on the first ring.

He answered. “Ghost.”

“It’s done.” Jameson’s voice was calm, controlled, but Callum could hear the undercurrent of tension.

Relief washed through him. “All of them?”

“Every last one. We cleared the final sector twenty minutes ago. The shelters are sealed.”

Callum closed his eyes briefly. At least the Boundary would be protected from whatever came next. If Maximus deployed his bombs today, they would fall on empty streets, not innocent people.

“Any resistance?” he asked, knowing that convincing some Boundary residents to trust authority figures enough to enter underground shelters would have been nearly impossible.

A pause. “Minimal. Daggermouths handled it.”

“Good. I’ll turn on the surveillance loop for the Boundary now. You are clear to head into Cardinal.”

“I’ll call you back when we’re headed for the Heart.”

The line went dead.

Callum set the tablet down, the weight of what they were about to do settling over him and pressing down on his lungs. Nine hours. Nine hours until the Vow ceremony began. Fifteen hours until they either liberated New Found Haven or condemned it to unparalleled bloodshed.

He turned to his computer, fingers flying over the keyboard as he hacked into the Heart’s security mainframe. The security protocols unfolded before him, a complex web of surveillance feeds, access points, and alarm systems. Callum had spent years learning every vulnerability, every backdoor. Now he began the delicate process of creating blind spots without triggering alerts—adding looping synthetic live feeds, reducing guard rotations in key areas, scheduling system maintenance at critical junctures, inserting subtle delays in the feeds from checkpoints.

Nothing obvious. Nothing that would immediately raise suspicion. But together, these small alterations would create windows of opportunity when the time came.

The screens before him flickered as the changes took effect, the Heart’s defenses subtly weakening under his touch. Outside his window, the first pale hint of dawn touched the eastern sky.