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The ache in Stella’s muscles slowly dissipated, and absolute fury replaced it. Laird bent over Lucas, the knife flashing in the ring lights Napp had used to make the scene perfect for streaming.

Stella was too low to see everything, except that no one was watching her now. From her vantage point near the floor, she saw Journey’s legs kicking, trying to throw her captor off balance, all while yelling what she was going to do to Laird if she did anything else to Lucas.

In front of her, Stella watched Hagen’s forearms clenching as he tried to loosen the binds around his wrists—the ropes trailed to a support pole beneath the metal table, but the table was bolted to the floor, presumably to prevent any priceless artifacts from teetering off the edge.

He’d never manage to get his binds untied in time.

Hagen twisted, searching for her. They both knew she was the only one in a position to do anything. But even now, bound and bloodied, he was, she could tell, more worried about her than himself and Lucas.

The security guard who’d tased her stood just over her head, but he was ignoring her—probably assuming she was still out.

But people didn’t understand that tasing was far from permanent.

The effect lasted just long enough to allow you to get control of the subject.

Then it faded. The security guard had lost control of her already.

Her gun hung loose in his hand—again, a distinct lack of training from this guy. She also spotted a utility knife in his belt. Probably for doing quick repairs throughout the museum. Tighten a bolt here, turn a screw there, open a box here.

She needed both her gun and the knife.

Now.

Laird ignored Journey and the other three federal agents in her vicinity.

She spoke to the phone live streaming everything.

“The ancient letters were inscribed four thousand years ago. They’ve survived the sacking of cities and the fall of empires.

But the words live on. They live because they’re built on truth, the glory of the world to come.

As soon as I’ve made my sacrifice, you’ll make yours.

And as the sun begins its descent, this age will end. So it is written.”

“You know what’s impressive, Jodie Laird?” Hagen called out, drawing the Administrator’s attention away from the camera. “How you managed to get out ahead of all those professors. Finally got the recognition you deserved. After years of being ignored.”

Smart move, Yates.

He was distracting her, buying Stella a couple of seconds. She wasn’t going to waste them.

Laird took the bait. “They never listened. I was just their administrator. The assistant. The nobody who organized their papers and scheduled their meetings. But I was better than all of them. I understood what they couldn’t see.”

Stella caught the edge in Laird’s voice—the bitter resentment of someone who’d been overlooked and underestimated for years.

This wasn’t about the end of the world. It was about power. Control. Being the expert who everyone finally had to acknowledge.

“You really believe that crap?” Hagen grunted.

“You really believe the world’s about to end?

It’s just a bunch of scratches in the mud.

You can’t honestly expect anyone would be dumb enough to fall for your garbage.

” He turned his head—the only body part he could move—and gave a You buying this ? look to the lens.

Jodie dismissed Hagen. “Nothing can stop what’s coming. So it is written.”

That distraction was all Stella needed. She surged upward, her elbow slamming into the guard’s chin. Bone cracked. His grip faltered.

She twisted his wrist hard— pop —and the gun dropped. He howled in pain, but Stella was already moving, yanking the utility knife from his belt and shoving him aside. He hit the floor, cradling his wrist, dazed but down.

Ignoring his screech of pain, she cuffed him. “Stay put.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She dropped low, slicing through the rope on Hagen’s right arm. He didn’t waste time—yanked free, grabbed the knife midair as she tossed it, and went to work on the rest of his bindings.

Across the room, another guard—taller, meaner—swung Hagen’s service weapon toward Lucas’s table.

Stella fired. The guard hit the floor.

The blast echoed like a cannon in the tight space.

“That was almost my face!” Lucas yelled. He’d managed to duck his into his shoulder.

“But it wasn’t,” Stella reassured him.

Journey drove her heel into her captor’s shin. As he staggered, she flipped him hard. He hit the concrete with a thud and a grunt. Then he was still. He’d have a nasty headache when he woke up…if he woke up.

Snagging her Glock from him, she rushed toward the streaming phone and faced the blinking lens. “Sorry, folks. No end of the world today. It’s now two minutes past noon, and we’re all still alive. Please desist from all murders and sacrifices and go hug your families.”

As she fired at the camera, Napp roared and charged at Stella, an ancient mace raised high.

Stella ducked. The weapon whistled overhead, smashing into the wall behind her.

Hagen’s left arm came free. He dropped under the table and sawed at Lucas’s ankle ropes. One foot loose. Then the second.

But Napp wasn’t stopping.

He swung again—wild, frenzied—catching Hagen square in the back with the mace. Hagen grunted, staggered to his knees, but didn’t stop cutting.

“Get back!” Stella warned, gun raised, but Napp was a man possessed.

Journey ducked a blow meant for her shoulder and grabbed a second weapon from the downed guard at her feet.

One of the swings smashed into Lucas’s rope and left hand. He screamed, but the blow had hit him sideways. It would bruise but not bleed. The rope, however, slid enough that he could wiggle free.

All Lucas’s limbs were loose except for his right hand now. He scrambled to get some purchase on the stainless steel beneath him.

Laird darted in from the corner and yanked him off balance, dragging him in front of her and holding her knife tight to his throat.

And just like that, the chaos snapped into a standstill .

“Let’s all just calm down,” she said.

“How about you calm down?” Journey held her retrieved weapons level and steady.

Napp was not calming down.

Hagen launched himself from beneath Lucas’s table and miraculously managed to dodge Napp’s wild, desperate swings. Apparently, training didn’t come with the ancient weapons.

Stella couldn’t take a shot at Napp—Hagen was in the way. She saw flashes of metal and Hagen’s “Vindicta” tattoo as they struggled.

Journey was securing one of the security guard’s wrists.

“I’m pretty sure waving ancient weapons around violates museum policy.

” Hagen was only armed with a utility knife.

But he didn’t need it. He managed to get close to Napp, which gave the other man no way to swing.

Using a move similar to the one Stella had used on her security guard, Hagen twisted the heavy mace away from the professor.

Even though Napp was in good shape, he was no match for Hagen’s fitness level and training. The older man lifted his hands and fell to his knees, surrendering.

“Amateur hour’s over.” Hagen pinned Napp face down.

“You useless bastard!” Laird didn’t seem to understand that the fight was over. She held Lucas before her like a shield.

Lucas was bleeding from his forehead and back.

Taking out a petite, inexperienced woman like Laird shouldn’t have been too much of a problem, but he didn’t seem to have the strength to even stand upright.

He wobbled down to his knees, his right hand twisted up in the bindings against the table, and Laird knelt behind him.

Because of the tangle, Laird wouldn’t be able to get very far. Her human shield was trapped. An awkward standoff .

“You’re done, Jodie.” Journey tracked the pair with her weapons.

Stella did likewise. “Your killer countdown is over. The time you gave for the end of the world has passed. No one is listening.”

Laird sneered. “You’re wrong. I know what I translated. I know what I know. You people don’t have a clue.”

“Just like they didn’t have a clue when you were running the department, right?” Stella kept her voice soft. “You were the one who kept everything together, and no one noticed. No one appreciated your intelligence. Your expertise.”

Laird paused—a moment of recognition, of finally being seen.

“All those PhDs.” She remained tucked behind Lucas.

“Not one of them could see what was right in front of them. I taught myself cuneiform. I spent nights studying while they played academic politics. When I found the tablet, when I understood what it said…” Her voice took on a reverent quality.

“They would’ve buried it. Called it a curiosity. But I knew its power.”

“And now you have blood on your hands.” Lucas blinked heavily. “Was it worth it? Just to be the expert?”

“Lucas, you okay?” Journey sounded a bit stressed for the first time since Stella met her.

Lucas offered a weak smile. “It’s just a really shitty day at work is all. For a couple of us, apparently, eh, Jodie?”

“Jodie?” Stella repeated. The woman had gone strangely quiet. The only body part Stella could really see was her hand, and the knuckles were going white. The shaking blade nicked Lucas’s neck.

He flinched. “That hurt.”

Lucas reminded Stella more of Hagen with each passing moment.

Stella kept her weapon up. She remembered Maureen King, who’d stabbed herself rather than surrender. All because of Laird’s translations and machinations. So many dead. “Jodie, I need you to drop the weapon. It’s done. All the sacrifices. All the death.”

“It’s not done.” Laird peeked up over Lucas’s shoulder. “The end might not have come for the whole world. But it’s going to come for him…right now.”

“You know this isn’t who you are. You wanted respect, not blood.”

Laird moved the knife. But the part of her head poking up over Lucas’s shoulder was enough for Stella to take a shot. She refused to see another person—someone she knew and respected, no less—have their blood spilled.

And she made the decision.

Instead of Laird’s hand, she focused on the lock of brunette hair drifting in front of Laird’s forehead. Exhaling, she fired.

She wasn’t alone.

Two shots rang out—one from Stella and one from Journey.

Lucas reacted instantly, reaching for her arm to stabilize the knife as the woman slid to the floor.

Stella took in Lucas’s face. His eyes were wide. His mouth hung open. He looked right at her.

“I can’t believe you did that.” He pointed at Journey. “You, I believe.” The finger returned to Stella. “But I didn’t realize you were crazy too.”

Before she could respond, a howl came from behind them.

Napp, currently pinned beneath Hagen, was scrambling to get up. But Hagen might as well have been a boulder.

“You killed her! Is she dead? You shot her!”

Stella holstered her weapon. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Journey kneeling beside Laird’s sprawled body .

“She’s as dead as your stupid theory.” Journey seemed less concerned about the dead woman than freeing Lucas from the table.

Stella glanced at Laird’s body, feeling an unexpected pang of regret.

In another life, with different choices, Laird’s brilliance might’ve earned her the recognition she’d craved through legitimate channels.

Instead, she’d chosen a path that ended here, in a basement storeroom, surrounded by the ancient artifacts she’d dedicated her life to understanding.

Stella didn’t let herself dwell on Laird’s fate too long. The pair of security guards still alive needed proper cuffing, which they allowed without protest.

“But…she said…she said we’d be free. Today. She did the translation. I did the translation.” Napp’s voice broke, his eyes wide with disbelief. “She promised me we’d be saved!”

Stella shook her head at the raving man as she cuffed him as well.

“They were much smarter in those days.” Napp’s words tumbled out, desperation edging his voice. “Knew things we’ve never understood. They saw what was coming. Oh, yes, they did. And they left a warning for us all. But we were too foolish to look, too arrogant.”

Stella looked at the man with something like pity. “Sorry, Dr. Napp. The ancients were just as mistaken as the rest of us. They were right about one thing, though.”

Hagen arched an eyebrow at her.

“For some of us, the world after today is going to look very different.”