Chapter 23
The rain provided excellent cover as Cole slipped through the dense underbrush. I watched him from behind a massive oak tree, my heart hammering against my ribs in a frantic rhythm. Hannah crouched beside me, her eyes fixed on the heavy steel blast doors of the bunker.
Cole reached the rear bumper of the closest black SUV. He attached the magnetic EMP charge to the undercarriage, tapped the activation button, and immediately sprinted back toward the tree line.
Five seconds later, a silent, invisible shockwave rippled through the clearing.
The headlights of the SUVs died instantly. The halogen work lights mounted near the bunker entrance sparked violently and shattered, plunging the clearing into absolute darkness.
"Comms are down!" one of the mercenaries shouted, his voice cutting clearly through the sound of the rain. "I have no radio contact with the interior team!"
"Check the vehicles! Secure the perimeter!" another commanded.
Two of the guards moved toward the disabled SUVs, their flashlight beams slicing frantically through the dark. The other two moved outward, stepping into the tree line exactly as Cole had predicted.
"Now," Cole whispered, appearing beside us like a ghost.
We moved fast and low, sprinting across the muddy ground while the guards were distracted. We reached the rusted blast doors just as they began to swing shut on their heavy hydraulic hinges.
Cole caught the edge of the door, straining against the massive weight. I threw my shoulder against the cold steel, pushing with everything I had. Together, we forced the gap open just wide enough for the three of us to slip inside.
The interior of the bunker smelled of stale air, damp concrete, and ozone. Faint emergency LED strips lined the floor, illuminating a long, descending corridor.
"They're down there," Hannah whispered, pointing to wet boot prints tracking mud down the concrete steps.
We descended quietly, the sound of our footsteps masked by the heavy, mechanical hum of an old generator. At the bottom of the stairs, the corridor opened into a massive subterranean control room.
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Banks of archaic servers lined the walls. In the center of the room, strapped to a metal chair, was Celeste. She looked battered, a dark bruise swelling on her cheek. Standing over her was a tall, meticulously dressed man holding a heavy silver briefcase.
"You're too late," the man said smoothly, turning to face us without a trace of fear. "The Apex Key is mine."
