By midnight, the city breathed a different rhythm — one only the hunted and hunters could hear.
The safe glow of downtown had given way to the predatory shadows of the outskirts, where fortunes were made and erased in a single bad decision.
Jasmine sat in the back of the armored black SUV, staring blankly at the screen mounted in the headrest. Live feeds from Monarch's internal surveillance flickered past — men in suits, security sweeps, financial reports.
But none of it settled her pounding heart.
Not after what Damon had just asked her to do.
She turned slightly.
He sat beside her, fingers tapping idly against his phone — the only tell that he, too, was restless.
Finally, she couldn't stand the silence.
"You're sure about this?"
He didn't look up.
"I'm never sure," he said. "I'm only certain."
Jasmine frowned.
"There's a difference?"
"In this world?" He glanced over, a wry glint in his eyes. "It's the only difference that matters."
The SUV turned sharply onto a deserted street. The driver — a silent, broad-shouldered man Jasmine only knew as Cole — drove like a ghost, weaving through the dark city without drawing a single headlight.
Jasmine tightened her grip on the seat.
"You really think I can pull this off?"
Damon finally looked at her fully.
"You're not just bait, Jasmine. You're the weapon they don't see coming."
She laughed bitterly.
"And if I get caught?"
His eyes darkened.
"You won't."
Simple. Absolute.
She wasn't sure whether to be comforted or terrified.
Maybe both.
---
The "facility" — if you could call it that — was a crumbling office building disguised as a logistics company.
Helix used it to launder data.
Fake job offers.
Cryptomining farms.
Black-market biotech.
And buried deep inside, according to Monarch's latest intel, was a black ledger: a digital record of every bribe, every hack, every deal Helix had orchestrated for the past seven years.
Proof.
Power.
And a death sentence if they got caught stealing it.
The SUV stopped three blocks away.
Damon unbuckled and turned to her.
"You get in. Plant the Trojan on their mainframe. Get out."
He pressed a tiny black device into her palm.
No bigger than a piece of chewing gum.
It pulsed once — alive.
"Upload time?"
"Seventy-three seconds."
She nodded, swallowing hard.
"And if they catch me?"
"You're a scared intern looking for a job. You don't know anything."
She tried to smile.
Failed.
He leaned closer, voice low and rough.
"And if it goes bad... you hit this."
He slipped a second device into her other hand.
A panic trigger.
One press, and every agent in a ten-block radius would converge like a goddamn hurricane.
"But it won't come to that," he said.
"Right," she whispered.
"Jasmine," he said, voice sharper. "Look at me."
She did.
He touched her cheek, just once, just lightly.
"You're stronger than you think."
And then — without waiting for a response — he opened the door and slipped into the night.
Jasmine sat for three more breaths.
Then followed.
---
The facility loomed ahead, all broken windows and flickering floodlights.
A couple of bored-looking guards lounged at the side entrance, smoking and swiping through TikTok videos.
Jasmine pulled her hoodie up, slung a battered laptop bag over her shoulder, and forced herself to look small.
Harmless.
Invisible.
She shuffled toward them, heart pounding in her throat.
One guard looked up lazily.
"Lost, sweetheart?"
She nodded, wide-eyed.
"Um...I-I'm here for the midnight shift? IT intern?"
They exchanged a glance.
Rolled their eyes.
"Figures," one muttered. "They're just hiring anyone now."
The other jerked his thumb.
"Elevator's busted. Stairs are to your left."
"Th-thank you," she stammered.
They barely looked at her as she slipped past.
God, people really were stupid.
Inside, the building smelled like mildew and burning wires.
She found the stairs and hurried up two flights, boots scuffing against the cracked concrete.
The server room was on the third floor.
No guards.
No cameras.
Helix's arrogance would be their downfall.
At the steel door, she paused, pulling out a thin magnetic keycard Damon had given her.
One swipe.
Green light.
The door hissed open.
And there it was.
A room full of servers humming in the dark, blinking like a thousand unblinking eyes.
Jasmine's fingers shook as she found the mainframe — a black tower bristling with security cables.
She knelt, found the access port.
Slid the Trojan in.
A soft beep.
Upload: 73 seconds... 72... 71...
She stood, heart hammering so loudly she was sure it was audible.
She made herself breathe evenly, just like Damon had taught her.
Trust the seconds.
Trust the plan.
Trust yourself.
60...59...58...
Behind her, footsteps.
Voices.
No no no no...
Jasmine ducked behind a row of servers just as two techs entered, arguing about crypto regulations and office coffee.
She pressed herself flat, willing herself to disappear.
43...42...41...
One of the techs paused.
Frowned.
"Hey...did you hear that?"
The other laughed.
"Dude, you're paranoid. Come on. Shift's almost over."
They moved on.
Jasmine squeezed her eyes shut.
27...26...25...
Outside, she heard the roar of a distant motorcycle.
Probably Cole.
Probably Damon.
Waiting.
Believing.
10...9...8...
She gripped the panic trigger in her left hand.
Not yet.
Not yet.
3...2...1...
The Trojan beeped twice.
Complete.
Data flooded to Monarch's hidden servers across the city, unseen.
Jasmine slipped the device out.
Pocketed it.
And walked.
Not too fast.
Not too slow.
Back down the stairs.
Past the guards, still scrolling TikTok.
Back into the oily, midnight air.
---
When she reached the corner, Damon was waiting, leaned casually against a battered Ducati motorcycle.
Helmet under one arm.
He straightened when he saw her.
Searched her face.
She gave a tiny nod.
He smiled — the real one. The one he rarely let anyone see.
Without a word, he handed her the spare helmet.
She climbed on behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist.
The engine snarled to life.
And they roared off into the night, leaving Helix none the wiser that their empire had just been gutted from the inside.
---
They didn't stop until they reached the upper levels of the city — a winding mountain road that overlooked the glittering skyline.
Damon killed the engine.
They sat in the dark, helmets off, the night air cold against their flushed skin.
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Then Damon turned.
"You okay?"
Jasmine laughed shakily.
"No," she said. "But I'm alive."
He smiled.
"Good enough."
She hesitated.
Then said what had been clawing at her throat since the server room.
"I was scared," she admitted. "I thought...I thought I was gonna blow it."
"You didn't."
"I could have."
"But you didn't," he said again, firmer.
He leaned back against the bike, staring at the stars barely visible through the city haze.
"You know what the difference is between people like us and people like them?"
She shook her head.
He looked over.
"They think fear is weakness. We know it's fuel."
Jasmine swallowed hard.
"I'm not like you," she whispered.
"Good," he said. "One Damon Vale is already one too many."
She laughed — a real, messy, exhausted laugh.
And in that laugh, something cracked open.
A new trust.
A new beginning.
Or maybe...
A new war.
---
Meanwhile, somewhere deep underground, ZeroQueen watched the data flood into her own stolen servers.
She grinned.
"Thanks for doing the hard part, darlings."
She leaned back, lit a cigarette, and began decrypting the files.
Names.
Bank accounts.
Buried scandals.
The kind of secrets that could topple governments.
ZeroQueen didn't work for Monarch.
Or Helix.
She worked for chaos.
And now?
Now it was her turn to play.
And Jasmine and Damon?
They had no idea that the real war had only just begun.
---