The air in the room was thick enough to choke on. L's thumb hovered over the tablet, his face a twitching mask of ego and desperation. Chano didn't flinch. He just looked at his watch, the seconds ticking by with an agonizing slow-motion rhythm.
"One move, Master. One move and she's a memory," L sneered.
Chano's voice was like ice. "L, remember what I told you? Technology is a crutch. And crutches break when you kick them."
Before L could process the words, the massive reinforced window behind him didn't just shatter—it ceased to exist.
BOOM!
A heavy grappling hook tore through the frame, followed by the blinding, white-hot pop of a flashbang.
"Pucha! My eyes! I'm blind!" Philip's voice boomed as he swung through the smoke like a maniac. He was still in his basketball jersey, but now he was strapped with a tactical vest and his signature chrome blades. Marco was right behind him, hitting the floor with his suppressed rifle already leveled at the shadows.
"L! You thought we were just gonna let you have all the fun?!" Philip shouted, delivering a spinning kick that sent a guard's teeth flying. "Party's over, kid!"
L scrambled back, blinking away the white spots in his vision. "Kill them! Kill them all!"
The study turned into a meat grinder. L's elite guards poured from the side doors, but they ran into a wall of lead and chaos. Philip was a blur—part street fighter, part shadow, laughing as he slammed a stun baton into a guard's ribs. BZZZT! "Next! Who wants a refill?!"
Marco was the anchor. He stayed low, his shots methodical and surgical, keeping the center of the room clear for Chano. "Chano! Get the lady! We've got the floor!"
Chano moved. L, recovering from the flash, pulled a serrated combat knife and lunged. He wasn't a technician anymore; he was a cornered animal. "You're never taking her!"
Chano caught the strike with his forearm—Kevlar sparking against the steel—and countered with a brutal elbow that nearly turned L's jaw into dust. As L stumbled, Chano didn't go for the throat. He grabbed the tablet.
"Phenphen! Now!"
"Copy, Master! Jammer's live! Sync is dead!" Elijah's voice was a scream of pure adrenaline. "Five seconds, Master! If the system reboots, it's over! Take it off!"
Chano reached Bella. His fingers were a blur, entering a manual override code he'd memorized years ago while Elijah's jammer held the digital trigger at bay.
CLICK.
The collar hit the floor. Chano hauled Bella out of the chair, shielding her with his body just as a stray round turned a server rack behind them into a shower of sparks.
"You okay?" Chano's voice finally cracked, a hint of the man beneath the machine showing through.
Bella nodded, her fingers digging into his jacket. She was trembling, but her eyes were clear. "I... I thought that was it."
"Not today," Chano said.
L dragged himself to his feet, spitting blood. His guards were a mess of groans on the floor, Philip was busy "inspecting" a gold watch he'd found on a downed goon, and Marco had the room pinned.
"This isn't over, Master," L hissed, backing toward a hidden panel. "The Scorpion is a ghost. You can't kill a ghost!"
Before Marco could pull the trigger, L slammed a hidden button. A thick titanium shutter dropped with a heavy thud, sealing the exit.
"Coward!" Philip yelled, wiping his blade on his jersey. "But hey, 'tol—admit it. That entrance was legendary. We looked like a movie!"
Chano helped Bella to her feet. He stared at the titanium door, his mind already three steps ahead.
"Let him run, Philip," Chano said. "He ran back to his nest. And now that we've tapped his local network, we're going to burn that nest down."
"Master," Elijah's voice came through the comms, suddenly very quiet. "I just cracked L's private archive. The Singapore mission five years ago? It wasn't a screw-up, Master. It was a hit. The order didn't come from the Scorpions. It came from the Department of Intelligence."
Chano's grip on his Glock tightened until his knuckles went white. The war wasn't just about a rogue hacker anymore. It was about the people who had sold his soul to the highest bidder.
"Philip, Marco," Chano said, his eyes turning into bottomless pits of shadow. "Load up. We're not going back to San Pedro. We're going to the capital."