Chapter 3
The white heat of the plasma explosion seared through Marcus’s eyelids, leaving a jagged streak of blue across his vision.
He hit the damp concrete floor hard, rolling behind a metal desk as concrete dust rained down like pulverized bone. Above the ringing in his ears, heavy automatic gunfire erupted from the shattered stairwell—the Syndicate cleanup crew firing blindly into the wall of choking smoke.
"Up, Vance!"
A gloved hand grabbed Marcus by his coat collar, hauling him to his feet with terrifying force. It was the helmeted intruder. Sparks danced across the stranger's sleek dark armor, but the blue device held tightly under one arm was still humming—and pulsing faster.
"The stairwell is sealed," Marcus spat, coughing up soot and pulling his weapon back up. "We're trapped."
"Only if you think in two dimensions," the synthetic voice replied.
The intruder aimed a compact grapple launcher at the structural air vent near the ceiling, firing a steel tether into the grate. Before Marcus could protest, the stranger grabbed him around the torso, and the winch yanked them upward just as a hail of Syndicate bullets tore through the space where they had been standing seconds before.
Inside the narrow ventilation shaft, the air was cold, smelling faintly of salt water and old rust.
"Who are you?" Marcus demanded, his chest heaving as they crawled through the darkness while distant boots stomped below.
The intruder paused, reaching up to unlock the seal on their visor. With a soft hiss of released pressure, the helmet slid off, revealing sharp features, fierce dark eyes, and a jagged scar trailing down her jawline.
"My name is Nova," she said, her real voice clear, sharp, and entirely human. "And if we don't reach the upper docks before the eclipse at dawn, Vance, every record of your life—and mine—will be wiped from existence."
