"MAN DOWN! MAN DOWN—I REPEAT, MAN DOWN!"
Tyric's voice rang sharply through the comms, reacting instantly to the sudden silence that followed Tesmee's last words. He couldn't see her—he was stationed far from the shore—but the abrupt cutoff and distant commotion said enough. Something had gone wrong.
Lorenzo stayed composed. He took out his phone and dialed.
"Lyra, you know what to do. Plan B is set on your part."
"Working on it," Lyra replied swiftly, her tone focused as she initiated emergency protocols. Without hesitation, she contacted the next link in the chain.
"Tiger. Plan B."
"On it," came his low, steady voice. In seconds, Tiger secured his Dragunov sniper rifle across his back, then launched into motion—sprinting across the rooftops like a silent predator. His route was already mapped in muscle memory, every leap and landing calculated for speed.
Tesmee was out of play—for now. But her team was already moving.
This was no longer just a mission. This was war.
Tiger contacted the military sergeant on a secure line.
"Plan B."
Without hesitation, the sergeant veered off course, separating from the main unit. He tapped into his comms and spoke firmly,
"Plan B. You five, with me."
Five soldiers from separate squads broke formation and converged on the sergeant's position, moving swiftly, purposefully—each one fully briefed on the contingency plan designed for moments exactly like this.
While the rest of the military teams continued with the original mission, this splinter group had one goal now: extraction and retaliation. The Queen had fallen—but not for long.
They moved fast—like shadows being chased by time—each of them knowing exactly where to go. Their pace was urgent, their path rehearsed. There was only one designated rendezvous point, and every step was a countdown toward it.
Upon arrival, Tiger didn't pause. He immediately contacted the military hacker. "Plan C."
"Understood," the hacker replied, already accessing secured comms. Within seconds, he reached Seig. "Plan C."
Seig narrowed his eyes, understanding the gravity of those two words. He made his way to one of the military captains and delivered it directly. "Plan C."
The captain gave a brief nod before sending out a coded signal to the designated military pilot. "Plan C is active," he said.
Without wasting a breath, the Plan C unit mobilized—quick, precise, and silent. Like ghosts with a target. They moved with purpose, as if they were being hunted themselves.
Meanwhile, the Plan B team had already taken position on the perimeter of the Hale's heavily-guarded safe house. A structure nestled deep in the woods, fortified by layers of security and secrecy. Inside, the Hales believed they were untouchable.
But the shadows outside had other plans.
Tesmee lay unconscious in the passenger seat of Tyson's car, her body limp and vulnerable. Tyson had already disconnected her comms and destroyed her devices, leaving them scattered on the beach, far from the mission's battlefield. As he sped away from the city, the lights dimming behind him, his thoughts were already on the next move, the next step in the game. He knew the mission was far from over, but for now, he had achieved a crucial victory—Tesmee was out of the picture. At least for now.
Meanwhile, the Plan C team was moving in the opposite direction of the city, their mission clear and precise. They weren't concerned with Tesmee's safety at this moment. No, their priority was far more tactical—eliminating Tyson's snipers and securing the perimeter. Their job was to watch over the remaining members of the team, ensuring none of them fell prey to Tyson's hidden forces. The focus was entirely on keeping the team intact while the mission continued, and Tesmee had been clear with her orders: no one was to act rashly or try to rescue her until the operation was completed.
The Plan B team had already positioned themselves around the Hale's safe house, keeping an eye on every possible angle. They knew that if Tyson had plans beyond his initial strike, the Hales might become targets as well. No one was taking any chances. The house was now a high-risk zone, and the team was ready to eliminate any threats that emerged. But even with their focus on the Hales, one truth lingered—Tyson had just struck at the head of the operation. The situation felt like a victory for him, but it was far from over.
Tyson's mind raced as he drove, trying to calculate his next move. He had wounded Tesmee—taken her off the battlefield for now—but the war was far from over. He had his forces, and he was ready to do whatever it took to secure his future. But deep down, he knew one thing was certain: the Hales would not go down without a fight. And Tesmee, even unconscious in his car, wasn't finished just yet.