A gunshot rang out loud, close. I hit the deck without thinking, ducking low beside a shattered conduit housing.

  “Pearl!” I shouted, hands raised, heart hammering like a drum in my chest. “It’s me! Charlie!”

  I paused and searched for words. The cold concrete beneath my heels radiated dampness, seeping up into my legs as if the very building resented my presence. My breath puffed out into the cool night air with the tang of rust, old oil, and distant smoke from some unseen burn barrel.

  “I need your help!” I forced the words out loud but clear. My voice bounced off the surrounding silos and decayed walls, swallowed by the industrial emptiness.

  For a moment, only silence answered. Then Pearl’s voice snapped from a hidden speaker, angry, ragged at the edges. “Help? You brought them here!” Her tone sent a chill racing down my spine. “I saw it on cam. Go away, or I’ll aim at you next time!”

  I glanced up instinctively, eyes locking on the disguised camera I’d spotted earlier, still half-melted into the broken light fixture above the door, its lens gleaming faintly.

  I took a step back. My vest scraped against my ribs, heavy and unfamiliar.

  “Okay,” I called, palms still raised. “This is bad. Terrible.” I forced my voice to stay calm. “Pearl, listen. I’m here willingly!”

  She laughed.

  Not a friendly laugh.

  The kind of brittle sound someone made when they were too tired, too cornered, and too ready to fight anyone who came close. “I watched them storm the lobby, Charlie. Saw them grab you. Throw you in that van like a package. No. No, you’re not here willingly.”

  Before I could form an answer, another shot rang out.

  The bullet cracked into the ground just to my left, chipping the concrete in a sharp spray of dust and grit. Warning shots. She was still warning me. That was the only good news.

  “Go away,” Pearl ordered, voice tight. “Now.”

  I steadied my breathing, keeping my hands up but standing my ground. “I own the company,” I yelled. “They work for me!” Silence. “I… I need your help, Pearl. But I can help you too. I know we don’t know each other that well, but I know Lucas. He knows me. Can I talk to him?”

  “No.”

  The word came just before the next gunshot.

  This one slammed straight into my vest.

  The impact hit like a hammer blow, knocking the air out of my lungs. Pain flared across my ribs, blunt, searing, but thankfully not piercing. The ballistic plates had held. I staggered back, gasping, one hand reflexively pressing over the dented spot where the round had struck. It was very shallow, probably only 6mm, wouldn’t kill me. She was trying to scare me away, not kill.

  Before I could say anything, I caught a movement in my peripheral vision.

  No, no no no—

  Someone from my team was making a move.

  “Pearl, you just— Hey! Stop!” I shouted, twisting to wave them off. “She—”

  But it was too late.

  Brute Three and Tom were advancing on the secondary entrance, silent and efficient, weapons low but ready.

  Pearl’s laugh drifted through the night again, this time tinged with something almost manic. “Your company, huh?” Her voice was breathless, adrenaline-sprinkled. “Guess they should listen to you, then.”

  This was spiraling out of control.

  As far as I knew her, Pearl was past the point where words would work. She’d hit the same mode she had back during one of our worst escapades with Lucas and the gang, when we got drunk and broke into a firefighter station because we really wanted to slide down the fireman’s pole.

  We’d trashed the place. Set off alarms. Nearly got arrested. Pearl had grounded Lucas for a month. No discussion. No compromise. Just punishment. That was who she was.

  And that idiot liked that kind of woman.

  Now? She was in that exact same mindset. Defend first. No negotiations.

  Think, Charlie. What would she do next?

  An explosion ripped through the quiet place.

  The sound thundered from the rear exit, shaking the ground beneath my feet. Dust rained down from the cracked overhang above me. A second later, a burst of cursing echoed through the comms in my ear.

  “We’ve got contact! Rear entrance compromised!” Brute Five’s voice barked.

  “Pearl!” I shouted, twisting back toward the camera. “Means they protect the owner, silly Pearl! That’s why they’re moving!”

  Another explosion sounded, this time closer, near escape route two.

  Static buzzed in my earpiece as my team scrambled to adjust positions. Darius’s voice cut in. “Charlie, she’s setting charges!”

  I winced. “Yeah, figured that.”

  I forced my voice steady and loud again. “Pearl. I tried to be nice, honey. I really did. But you made a mistake holing up here.”

  No answer.

  I closed my eyes, counted three slow breaths, and kept my voice calm. “You’ve rigged explosives around the central pillars, haven’t you? That’s your fallback.”

  Still no response.

  But I heard it, the faint, distinct clatter of someone moving near the second entrance. A figure darting through shadows. We were surrounding her.

  “You plan to bring it down,” I continued, pushing every word like a lifeline through the tension, “and then move south, to the parking lot. One of the cars is yours, isn’t it?”

  I could practically feel Pearl’s finger tightening on the weapon, hesitating between trust and instinct.

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  “Come in.” The door unlocked with a heavy mechanical clunk, and slowly swung open on silent hinges. “Alone.” Her voice was still intense. Controlled. But it wasn’t a threat anymore.

  I tapped my comm. “Guys, she let me in. Don’t press, okay? It’s fine. I’m okay.”

  There was a pause. “You have ten minutes,” Darius replied. His tone was clipped. No argument, no fuss. Just ten minutes.

  “I better make them count, then,” I muttered to myself, trying to sound light. It came out weak.

  I crossed the threshold.

  The heavy door sealed shut behind me with a deep thunk, the sound vibrating through the soles of my heels.

  The hallway stretched out before me, long and narrow, the overhead lights flickering weakly, casting uneven shadows across the floor. The walls were stained concrete, layered with grime and the faint imprint of where pipes and cables had once been mounted before being ripped away.

  Tucked neatly into a broken utility panel over the door, pointing outward, a small Flobert rifle was mounted, jury-rigged into electric serves, the kind of DIY auto-turret Pearl loved building. Simple. Low caliber. But enough to deter or disable someone foolish enough to rush in.

  Probably what she used on me.

  Opposite it, half-hidden behind a steel vent grate, a larger barrel protruded, one I didn’t recognize. The matte black casing was smooth. The kind of gun someone built out of spare drone parts and too much time. Heavy duty. Likely armor-piercing.

  This is what paranoia builds, I thought, my pulse steadying as I walked.

  Pearl had always been like this. She didn’t wait for people to betray her. She assumed they would and planned accordingly.

  The hallway finally opened into a wide living space.

  And instantly, the atmosphere changed.

  The room was warm. Cozy. Like stepping out of a battlefield and into a strange, patched-together sanctuary.

  The walls were lined with shelves packed full of tech manuals, old VR helmets, disassembled drones, and stacks of notebooks crammed with Pearl’s tiny, scribbled handwriting. Bright, multi-color LED strips wound between the shelves, casting a soft glow over the room in blues, purples, and greens. Blankets and pillows had been shoved into the corners. Cables snaked across the floor, but they were organized, bundled neatly, marked with colored zip ties.

  With stick-up notes. Colored. Each of them.

  A massive holo-display dominated the far wall, currently filled with security cam feeds, dozens of angles showing the outside approaches, the vans, the crews. Every member of my team was there, highlighted and labeled.

  Pearl had names and tags on all of them.

  In the center of the room sat a huge green sofa, cushions half-collapsed from years of use. Pearl was curled up on one side, hugging her knees to her chest, wearing her usual chaotic blend of styles, a black hoodie with glowing circuitry designs, neon orange shorts, and striped thigh-high socks. Her short, electric pink hair was mussed, and her fierce eyes locked onto me like twin laser sights.

  Lucas sat in a metal chair nearby, leaning forward with his arms resting on his knees. To his right stood the most ridiculous, and somehow comforting, feature of the room.

  A massive glass-front fridge. Industrial size. Fully stocked with what had to be hundreds of energy drinks, every brand and color imaginable. The glow from the cooler’s interior lights cast a surreal, pulsing sheen across the floor.

  “Charlie!” Lucas shot up from his chair the moment he saw me. Relief flooded his face. “Thank god you’re fine.”

  “Of course,” Pearl said coolly, not moving from the sofa. “Wouldn’t hurt her.” She nodded toward the monitors, chin lifting slightly. “But look.”

  I followed her gesture and swallowed.

  The main screen zoomed in on my team. Every single one of them.

  Brute One. Brute Three. Tom. Lola. Even Darius.

  Each tagged with little colored boxes and scrolling data. Height, weight, estimated reflex speed, predicted threat level. Movement patterns. Predicted escape routes.

  She’d profiled them in real time.

  Pearl’s eyes never left me. “I see everything, Charlie. Every angle. Every risk.”

  Lucas rubbed his neck awkwardly. “She... uh. She’s been in full red alert since yesterday.”

  “You brought a private army.” Pearl’s voice didn’t waver. “You know how that looks.”

  “I didn’t bring them to you,” I mumbled. “I brought them because someone else is after you both. Not me.” Pearl didn’t answer. Just stared. Calculating. “I own that company now,” I added, voice calm, trying not to let my pulse show. “They work for me.”

  Lucas blinked. “You what?”

  “It’s a long story,” I muttered, glancing at him with a weak smile. “Short version, don’t mess with me right now.”

  That earned a twitch of a grin from him. The kind that didn’t quite banish the worry in his eyes but made him look a little more like the old Lucas.

  Pearl, though, remained stone-faced. Watching. Judging. “I don’t trust them.”

  “Tom works in your building, Lucas,” I said, motioning toward the monitors where he was visible, hovering near the outer entrance.

  Tom was pacing in slow, deliberate loops outside. His movements were stiff, not from fear but from disuse. His training had faded after years spent guarding lobby doors and monitoring delivery drones. But as he paused to scan the perimeter, adjusting his stance and touching his holstered weapon just once, it was clear the instincts were still there.

  Rusted, but not gone.

  “Yes, I know,” Lucas said, frowning. “That’s why I was confused. You own the company? The stream must’ve been... very profitable.”

  “Few million,” Jerry chimed in, helpfully reminding me he existed.

  I ignored him.

  “It’s a really long story, wait.” I turned from him back to Pearl, narrowing my eyes. “You were watching?”

  Pearl’s ears turned pink. She looked away quickly. “It was... uh... your battle and chill,” she mumbled, hugging her knees tighter. Lucas raised both arms. “Charlie, this isn’t the time for that,” Pearl snapped, glaring at both of us as if we’d conspired to derail her entire sense of order.

  She was blushing, but her expression tightened. The fire in her eyes hardened back into focus. “The Ring is after us because Lucas is...” She let out a heavy, frustrated sigh. Shoulders slumping just a little. “Because Lucas,” she finished simply.

  I nodded slowly. “What’d he do this time? And I thought it was because Damon went after me.”

  “Damon?” Lucas’s head snapped toward me, eyes wide. “What—”

  Before he could finish, Pearl grabbed a teddy bear from the couch, a worn thing with one button eye, and chucked it square at his face.

  He caught it mid-air with a guilty grunt.

  “We first!” Pearl snapped, pointing a finger at him like a schoolteacher. “Charlie’s problems can wait.” She motioned firmly to the sofa. “And call off the hounds.”

  I shrugged and sat down beside her. The cushions were soft, sunken. Comfortable in a way I hadn’t expected after the hallway of turrets and gun barrels.

  “Can they come in?” I asked carefully. “At least their leader?”

  Pearl didn’t hesitate. “Darius only.” Of course, she already knew his name. She probably had his childhood records by now.

  I tapped my comm. “Darius, everything’s solved. You’re allowed to come in.”

  There was a pause, then his voice crackled back, amused, not offended. “Allowed? Roger. We’ll secure the perimeter and I’ll come.”

  I glanced sideways at Pearl, raising one brow. “See? We’re civil.”

  She grunted and crossed her arms. “Barely.”

  Lucas sighed, a resigned breath that sounded like it had been building for weeks. He dropped down beside Pearl on the sagging sofa and casually threw an arm around her shoulders. The worn cushions shifted under their combined weight, creaking softly. “This is already too much for my blood pressure,” he muttered.

  Pearl turned to him, her expression softening. Her voice came out mixed with frustration, affection. “It wouldn’t be... if you didn’t poke at them.”

  Lucas tensed, but didn’t pull away. “They were experimenting on people,” he said firmly. “What was I supposed to do? Ignore that they were running illegal clinical trials? Hurting people who couldn’t afford lawyers?”

  Pearl exhaled, her breath stirring the fabric of his jacket. “We could’ve reported it. Hacked the database. Flagged them. Not—” she jabbed him lightly in the ribs “—stormed in like an idiot, yelling at them.”

  Lucas opened his mouth. Closed it. Then glanced away, sheepish.

  I couldn’t stop myself. A giggle escaped before I could bite it back. Lucas threw me the flattest, most long-suffering stare I’d seen all day. Pearl, on the other hand, nodded toward me approvingly, the faintest curve of a smile on her lips. “She’s right.”

  I leaned back, the worn cushions cradling my spine, and sighed. The smell of cold electronics, machine oil, and the faint artificial tang from the glowing energy drink fridge filled the air. “So,” I said, stretching my legs out in front of me, “we both pissed off the same people. But they didn’t coordinate to take us down?”

  “Basically,” Pearl replied, offering a small smile. “Separate headaches. Same disease.”

  I tilted my head back against the wall, letting the cool concrete ground me for a moment. My eyes traced the mess of wires overhead, the shifting light from the security monitors playing across the room like restless ghosts.

  Of course. Riker called it before.

  I closed my eyes, imagining how smug he’d look if he were here. Arms spread wide, that insufferable grin, basking in his own genius like a cat in a sunbeam. I couldn’t help it. The smallest smile tugged at my lips.

  “He was right.”