The echo of Lena’s boots grew sharper, closer. The night air thickened with tension, every sound magnified—the scrape of her rifle against her side, the faint metallic click of her handgun, the steady rhythm of a predator closing in.
Priest yanked Jax around a corner, but they didn’t make it far. A figure dropped from the rooftop ahead, landing in a crouch with terrifying grace. Lena rose to her full height, her eyes glowing faintly under the artificial enhancements, her face blank as death.
“Target acquired,” she intoned.
“Lena—!” Jax’s voice cracked, raw with emotion. He staggered forward despite his bleeding shoulder, despite Priest’s desperate attempt to hold him back. “It’s me! It’s Jax! Don’t you remember?”
Her head tilted slightly, as if processing the name. For a second—just a
