The sun rose over Eastvale in fractured gold, slicing through the haze of broken glass and smoke. The city was alive again, but its heartbeat felt irregular, too quiet and too strained.

In the war room of Mercedes Tower, Cole stood before the digital map, every flickering red dot a reminder that Marcus Vale’s code still pulsed somewhere inside the network.

Rico’s voice was hoarse. “I’ve traced Marcus’s escape signal through our own comm logs. Someone on the inside rerouted the feed ...