Page 44

Ziva

We slip into the lobby, the door clicking shut behind us. The space is stark, the white walls and polished floors reflecting the harsh lighting. A sharp scent of lemon lingers, mixed with something I can’t place.

My pulse quickens as I grab for my earpiece, a knot forming in my chest. “Marcus, status?”

His voice crackles through, tense but steady. “All clear, Ziva. No unexpected movement detected on any of the security feeds outside.”

Scanning the lobby, I count the bystanders who might become collateral.

I nod to Myall, my fingers trembling as I pull out the device.

It’s small, innocuous-looking, but loaded with potential.

The culmination of countless hours of work and if done incorrectly, could result in the death of anyone wearing a NeuroMod within this building, and potentially even on the street outside.

“Here goes everything,” I mutter, strolling in a casual pace towards the center of the lobby, my boots echoing of the polished floors.

I focus on the floor, aware of the cameras that might trigger an alarm. With a deep breath, I strategically position myself near the main entrance, hidden in plain sight beside a cluster of artificial potted plants.

Myall takes position by the glass doors, ready for any surprises. His eyes meet mine, a silent encouragement passing between us from across the lobby.

I activate the device, and for a moment, nothing happens. Then, a soft whir emits, followed by a wave of energy that pulses outward, invisible to the untrained eye but I can feel it passing through my body. The device vibrates in my hand, and I grit my teeth against the rising panic.

Suddenly, the atmosphere shifts. People passing by slow their steps, their expressions changing subtly. A woman glances up from her datapad, her brow furrowed in confusion. A man talking on his communicator frowns and raises a hand to his chest.

“It’s working,” Myall murmurs, his voice lost in the lobby’s hum.

Around us, we hear thuds and crashes as people collapse.

Light-headedness envelopes me, and I’m not sure if it’s from the fear that I may have caused harm to all these individuals or a reaction from holding onto the device so tightly in my hand.

“Ziva! Are you alright?” Myall’s strong arms steady me.

Breathless, I nod. “It… it worked. They’re all down.”

He helps me pry the device from my grip, my fingers relaxing instantly, then touches his earpiece. “Marcus, confirm status.”

“Confirmed,” Marcus replies, his voice tight. “All NeuroMods in the building have overloaded. You did it, Ziva.”

Relief washes over me, so potent it nearly brings me to my knees again. Myall squeezes my hand.

“I’ll tell the others,” he says, his voice soft with an emotion I can’t quite name. He activates his comm. “It’s safe. Join us in the lobby. Jorel, stay put and keep our exit clear.”

As we wait for the others, Marcus confirms that the feedback loop he created through a backdoor in the Sentinel system is reporting no inaccuracies to the NeuroMods we just overloaded. As long as we don’t trigger any other alarms in the building, our break-in will go unnoticed.

“We did it,” I whisper, a smile breaking across my face as I meet Myall’s gaze.

He smiles back, a rare, genuine expression that makes my heart skip. “No, Ziva. You did it.”

The sound of approaching footsteps breaks the moment, and we turn to face our approaching teammates, ready for the next phase.

I lead our group through the eerily silent corridors, my heart pounding in my chest with each step.

The sprawled bodies of unconscious guards litter our path, a testament to the power of my device.

I try not to look at their faces as we step over them, but I can’t help feeling a twinge of guilt.

Were the employees here by choice, or were they merely pawns controlled by The Authority?

At least they’re still breathing.

“Keep an eye out,” I whisper to the others, my voice barely audible about the rapid beating of my heart. “We don’t know how long they’ll be out.”

Myall nods, his eyes scanning our surroundings. “Which way, Ziva?”

I consult the mental map I’ve constructed of the detention center. “Left here, then two rights.”

We move swiftly, our footsteps echoing in the empty hallways. The sterile white walls seem to close in on us and every corner we turn makes the place feel like one giant maze.

As we round the final corner, my heart sinks. A massive security door blocks our path, standing at least 10 feet tall. Its surface made of sturdy metal and dotted with buttons and a numeric keypad. The control panel glows a pulsating red, warning anyone who dares to try and tamper with it.

“Shit,” Jarek hisses. “Now what?”

I step forward, my mind running through the options.

Fortunately, it appears to be a numerical access code, which is convenient because they are easier to hack than biometric scanners. It also means less wires to pick from.

“I’ve got this.”

As the others form a protective circle around me, I approach the panel and pry open the circuitry. My fingers trail over the wires. This is what I was born to do.

“Come on,” I mutter, frustration building as the seconds tick by.

I find the right wire, and a grin spreads across my face. Pulling a pair of pliers from my pocket, I isolate the wire and cut. The access panel emits a faint click that’s barely audible.

“We’re in,” I announce, triumphant as the heavy door swings open with a soft hiss.

Myall’s hand rests on my shoulder, grounding me. “You never cease to amaze me, Ziva.”

I turn to face him, our eyes locking and my chest becoming tight. For a moment, the world falls away, and it’s just us. Then reality crashes back in.

“Let’s go,” I say, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me. “Arden’s waiting.”

As we step through the doorway, the holding cells stretch ahead, their steel doors echoing with a grim finality. My eyes dart from door to door, searching desperately for any sign of Arden.

The flickering lights cast long shadows across the cells, turning the place into a maze of metal and despair. Each cell contains a metal door with a small window. A quick glance through one of the window’s shows only a narrow bunk bed and a small toilet— the absolute bare minimum.

Suddenly, a flash of red at a door catches my attention. “There!” I whisper urgently, pointing to a cell at the far end.

We rush forward, and I freeze when I see Arden’s face pressed against the small window. She looks up, her eyes wide with recognition.

“Ziva! Myall!” she calls out, her voice muffled but unmistakable.

As I gaze beyond Arden further into the cell, I notice another figure behind her—an older woman with wavy blonde hair and glasses. She stands against the far wall, her shoulders hunched slightly. Something about her seems oddly familiar, but I push the thought aside, focusing on the sight of Arden.

“Stand back,” I warn, already working on bypassing the lock. My fingers wrench open the access panel, fueled by adrenaline and determination. I find the wire that I need. “Almost there…”

With a satisfying click, the door swings open. Arden bursts out, throwing her arms around me in a tight embrace. I hug her back, relief washing over me in waves.

“I knew you’d come for me,” she whispers as she holds onto me tightly, her voice thick. She trembles in my arms, but it’s hard to tell whether it’s from the thrill of seeing us or the weight of what she’s been through. I run my hand down the length of her curls, offering what comfort I can.

As we pull apart, Myall embraces Arden in a bear hug. “Glad to have you back, troublemaker,” he says, his usual calm tone carrying an unexpected warmth as he wraps an arm around her waist.

The older woman emerges from the cell, her posture rigid and uncertain. Arden turns to her, then back to us, her expression suddenly serious.

“Umm…this is Dr. Elena Vance,” she announces, and my blood runs cold as I gaze at the woman. “She has crucial information about The Authority. We need to bring her with us.”

I exchange a shocked glance with Myall, my mind spinning. Dr. Vance—the architect of the very system we oppose. Here, in front of us.

“Are you insane?” I hiss, struggling to keep my voice low as I cast a quick glance at the older woman. My muscles instantly tighten at the sight of her. “She’s the enemy, Arden!”

Dr. Vance steps forward, her blue eyes pleading. “I understand your hesitation, but please, hear me out. What I’ve learned… it changes everything.”

Myall adjusts his earpiece. “Marcus, please tell me you’re getting this.” He listens for a moment. “Yeah, I know. It’s a huge fucking risk.”

I watch Dr. Vance as she takes in the sight of Myall and me. My thoughts are a chaotic whirlwind. Can we trust her? Why is she a prisoner in our city? Is this a trap? But the desperation in her eyes—it seems genuine.

“We don’t have time for this,” Jarek interrupts, his voice tense. “We need to move. Now. Let’s just bring her with us.”

I take a deep breath, the gravity of the situation sinking in. “Fine,” I say finally, locking eyes with Dr. Vance. “But one wrong move, and you’ll wish we’d left you here. Understood?”

She nods solemnly. “Perfectly.”

As we turn to leave, Arden’s hand finds mine, squeezing it tight. Despite the unexpected complication, I can’t help but feel a surge of triumph. We did it. We got her back.

Now we just have to make it out alive.

Taking point, I lead our ragtag group back through the maze of white corridors. My eyes dart from corner to corner, hyperaware of every sound, every movement.

“Left here,” I whisper, gesturing to a narrow hallway. “We’re almost back to the lobby.”

As we round the last corner, a groan echoes from behind us, making my blood run cold.

“They’re waking up,” Myall hisses, his voice tight with tension.

Fuck.

Spinning around, I see the first stirrings of movement from the unconscious guards we’d passed earlier, his fingers twitching against the white marble floor.