Chapter 2 - Eight Minutes on the ClockT-minus six minutes.
Downstairs, the heavy security glass of our luxury apartment building lobby exploded inward.
The security guards stationed at the front desk didn't even have time to reach for their panic buttons. A black-matte, unmarked heavy-duty SUV had rammed directly through the reinforced glass doors, its heavy steel bumper crushing the reception desk into splinters.
Before the dust could settle, four men in unmarked tactical gear—wearing ballistic vests, night-vision mounts, and carrying suppressed short-barreled rifles—poured out of the vehicle like ghosts. They moved with terrifying, machine-like synchronization. They didn't speak. Hand signals flickered in the dim hallway light.
Leading them was a man whose face was partially concealed by a balaclava, but his eyes—steely, ice-blue, and burning with a cold, absolute wrath—were unmistakable.
"The Beast."
Colonel Thomas Vance didn't waste a single heartbeat. His encrypted tactical earpiece connected directly to the phone still clutched in my hand, broadcasting my ragged, dying breaths straight to his command channel.
"Breach team alpha is on-site," Vance's voice rumbled through my earpiece, cold as liquid nitrogen. "Elevator is compromised. We're taking the service stairs. Five minutes, Lena. Keep breathing."
Up in the bathroom, Marcus let go of my throat abruptly, distracted by a strange, heavy thudding sound echoing up through the building's ventilation shafts. It sounded like a stampede of rhinos, moving with impossible speed.
"What the hell is that?" Marcus muttered, frowning as he turned his head toward the apartment's front entryway.
"They're here," I gasped, clutching my broken arm against my chest, coughing as air rushed back into my lungs.
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Marcus spun back around, his face twisting into a mask of furious disbelief. "Who's here? Are you out of your damn mind? I'll kill whoever you called!"
He reached down, grabbing me by my hair, and hauled me to my feet like a ragdoll.
