Page 249 of Operation: Defiance

As if she understands how close I am to spiraling, she gestures toward the hospital doors. “Go on. Get out of here. If anything changes here, I’ll call.”

The noise builds with every step I take toward the reception desk. The blare of a TV, nurses calling to one another, the squeak of a gurney wheel against the tile. My pulse climbs higher, but I reach into my pocket and rub my thumb against Asher’s challenge coin.

The security camera over the double doors is angled to capture faces as they cross the threshold. I step into range and lift my chin, staring straight into the lens for a full five seconds. My thumb drifts to my left index finger, but this time, on purpose. I want them to see me. And if they’re as predictable as I think they are, I want Asher to see me. If they do find out Ellen’s here, I want them to know I’m the one who got her out. I want them to understand killing her now would be a liability they don’t need. Not while they have Asher.

A man cradling his bloody hand clips my shoulder on his way in. My body reacts before my mind catches up, bracing for pain that never comes. He mutters an apology before staggering over to the desk.

I force myself to breathe, and escape into the cold night air.

Ducking into the alley next to the hospital, I put the baseball cap and sunglasses back on before heading in the opposite direction of the car. Halfway down the block, I duck into a twenty-four hour convenience store and beeline for the bathrooms.

Once I’m locked inside a stall, I swap Asher’s coat for one of his gray sweatshirts, the baseball cap for a black knit hat with a ridiculous pom pom on top, and the oversized sunglasses for a thinner pair that still hide the contours of my cheeks before folding Asher’s coat carefully and tucking it into my bag.

I sneak out the back door and force myself to maintain a normal, ordinary pace all the way to the car.

Twenty minutes later, Lake Washington stretches out before me, glassy under the thin wash of moonlight. The bridge is empty at this hour. My headlights carve a narrow path across I-90, the city behind me reduced to a scatter of distant lights.

My phone vibrates against the center console.

I press the hands-free button on the steering wheel and the dull hum of the radio fades. “Yes?”

“Ms. Calder, the site has been emptied,” Latham says, his voice calm. “We cut the power before we breached, so there is no evidence of the raid. The lone detainee in Coherent Path’s custody was transported to Tacoma Memorial. In less than five minutes, there will be nothing left of the facility.”

The water to my left flashes silver as I pass beneath one of the tall lights.

“Nothing?”

A dry chuckle reverberates through the car’s speakers. “A controlled explosion will render the structure unsalvageable. Kovacs moved their people an hour ago. They now owe me a favor.”

“And the flash drive has everything?” It’s lighter than Asher’s challenge coin, but I can still feel the weight of it in my pocket.

“Yes. Video recordings. Session logs. Internal communications. Financial transfers. And Personnel rosters. Every file tied to Coherent Path. We have a cyber expert on our payroll.”

The Bellevue skyline sharpens in front of me. “You’re absolutely sure?”

“We ran several integrity checks. I trust this concludes our transaction?” he asks.

“It does. Thank you, Mr. Latham. I hope we never have to speak again.”

Latham hangs up, and the soft sounds of conversation from the radio fill the silence. Northbridge is done. But I’m just getting started.