The delivery van was a dark, unassuming beetle crawling through the flooded, drenched streets of Northwood.
Kael sat in the passenger seat, his face a stone carving in the dim light of the dashboard.
He wasn't watching the storm.
He was watching the small, glowing screen of a data tablet, his eyes tracing the faint, red lines of enemy patrols.
"Okay, so, just to be clear," Miles's voice crackled in his ear, a calm, disembodied presence that was somehow both reassuring and deeply unnerving. "The plan is still 'drive a stolen van through the multi-million dollar lobby of a skyscraper'."
"I just want to make sure I didn't miss a memo."
"Because it feels like a plan that could have used a second draft."
Kael just grunted, his gaze never leaving the tactical display.
The boy was a ghost, a weapon, a commander.
He was also, Kael was beginning to realize, profoundly annoying.
