Avery

I glanced over my shoulder, keeping my pace steady as Maverick and I crept through the dimly lit corridor. The silence around us was unnerving, but the quiet tension between us was louder than any alarm. My thoughts kept flashing back to our earlier screw-up. We thought we had it all figured out back then, too, and now here we were, trying to pull off another desperate move.

This has to work. It's all I kept thinking. Because if it didn't, we weren't just done—we were dead.

"Keep moving," Maverick whispered beside me. His tone was steady, too calm for someone who's just as terrified as I am, but that's Maverick for you. Always the cool head, always the leader. He had a knack for making me believe we had a chance, even when the odds were a nightmare.

I nodded and kept my eyes forward, pushing away the panic bubbling in my gut. We were close to the control room now, the only shot we had left. If we could get in, set off the alarm, and cause enough chaos to slip out—maybe, just maybe—we'd survive. Maybe.

We reached the corner, and I felt Maverick stop next to me. I glanced at him, waiting for the cue. His jaw was set, that look of grim determination etched into his face. I knew that look well—he was in soldier mode now. It meant he had a plan, and I needed to trust him.

"Guard," Maverick muttered under his breath, jerking his chin towards the door up ahead. Sure enough, there he was—arms crossed, bored as hell, completely unaware that his day was about to get a lot worse.

Good, I thought, swallowing the nerves tightening in my throat.

"We take him out quietly," Maverick said, barely a whisper. "You go low; I'll handle the rest."

I didn't argue. There wasn't time for second-guessing. We moved in unison, like it was instinct—me going for the legs while Maverick swooped in behind. The guard didn't even have a chance to shout before Maverick silenced him, a hand clamped over his mouth. One swift motion and the guy was out cold, slumped against the floor like a rag doll.

I stared down at the guard, adrenaline pumping so hard I could barely catch my breath. That worked. It actually worked.

Maverick flashed me a quick look—sharp, focused. "Let's go."

I nodded and followed him into the control room. It was dark, save for the dull glow from the security monitors lining the wall. Maverick headed straight for the control panel, like he knew exactly what he was doing. Meanwhile, I scanned the monitors, looking for any signs of trouble. Most of the guards were where Maverick said they'd be—near the shipment area. A few near the holding cells, but the path to the exit was clear.

For now.

"Got it," Maverick muttered under his breath. I watched him press a series of buttons, his fingers moving with precision. "Triggering the alarm in five... four... three..."

I held my breath, heart racing faster with each second.

"...two... one."

The alarm blared, louder than I expected. Red lights flashed across the screens, and through the monitors, I saw the guards scrambling like panicked ants. Maverick had been right. They were heading toward the shipment area, exactly as planned.

"Move," Maverick said, his grip on my arm pulling me out of my trance. We didn't have time to celebrate. We needed to get out, now.

We slipped out of the control room and headed down the hall, moving fast but quiet. The adrenaline running through me was a double-edged sword—pushing me forward, but also making every little sound seem like it was amplified a thousand times. We were close to the exit. So close I could feel the cold night air already, like freedom was just a breath away.

Then I saw it—a cabinet tucked against the wall, papers sticking out like someone had left in a hurry. I skidded to a stop, instinct kicking in. Something about it felt off. Important.

I darted over to it, yanking open the drawer. That's when I saw it—a thick file with Kane stamped right across the front.

"Avery, what the hell are you doing?" Maverick hissed from behind me. I knew we didn't have time for this. But I also knew this file could be the key to everything. To bringing Kane down, to getting our lives back.

"This could be it," I muttered, shoving as many papers as I could into my pockets. I slammed the drawer shut and ran back to Maverick.

He didn't argue. He just nodded and kept moving, leading us toward the back exit. We burst through the door, the icy night air smacking me in the face. The relief was so strong I almost collapsed right then and there. But we kept running, pushing through the trees at the edge of the facility, not stopping until we were deep enough into the woods that the alarms were just a distant echo.

We finally stopped, both of us collapsing against a tree, gasping for breath. For a moment, the only sound was the rasp of our breathing, the cold air burning my lungs. We made it. We actually made it.

Maverick turned to me, his face flushed from the cold and the adrenaline. "Told you we'd make it."

I forced a smile, still catching my breath. "Yeah, well, I wasn't so sure."

He chuckled, but there was a sharpness to it. Like he knew how close we came to getting caught. "What was that back there?" he asked, jerking his head toward my pocket.

I pulled out the papers, holding them up. "This," I said, "might be what we need to take Kane down."

Maverick stared at them, then at me. Slowly, he nodded. "Alright. Let's see what we've got."

We weren't out of the woods yet—literally or figuratively—but for the first time in a long time, I felt something close to hope. And that was enough to keep me moving forward.