The submersible breached the surface like a leviathan gasping for air.
"You're making a mistake, Silas," Elara hissed, her hands bound by a high-tensile plastic zip-tie—part of the "plan."
"Trust is a luxury we don't have, Viper," Silas replied, his face a mask of cold stone. He held the Ares Key between two fingers, the encrypted drive glinting under the searchlights of the Syndicate destroyer.
A boarding plank slammed onto the sub's deck. Marcus, Silas's former partner—a man he had once called brother—stepped across, flanked by four men with pulse-rifles.
"The Ghost finally gives up the ghost," Marcus sneered, his eyes scanning Elara with a predatory hunger. "And the Viper... still as beautiful as the day you 'killed' her, Silas."
"The Key for the boy," Silas said, his voice dropping to a dangerous frequency. "Now."
Marcus waved a hand. Two guards dragged a teenage boy onto the deck of the destroyer. Leo. He was pale, hooked to a portable IV drip, his eyes wide with terror.
"Leo!" Elara screamed, struggling against her restraints.
"The Key first," Marcus insisted.
Silas tossed the drive. Marcus caught it, plugging it into a handheld scanner. The screen glowed green. Verified.
"Kill them," Marcus said casually, turning his back.
"What?" Elara shrieked.
"You didn't think I'd let the two best operatives in the world walk away, did you?" Marcus laughed. "The Ares Key is my retirement fund. You two are just loose ends."
Silas didn't panic. He looked at Elara and winked.
Suddenly, Marcus's scanner began to emit a high-pitched whine.
"What is this?" Marcus demanded.
"That," Silas said, "is a localized EMP triggered by the 'Key.' And this—" Silas flexed his wrists, snapping his own hidden ceramic blade through his zip-ties— "is the end of the conversation."
BOOM.
The scanner exploded in Marcus's hand. The destroyer's lights flickered and died.
"Now!" Silas roared.
Elara didn't need to be told twice. She executed a perfect roundhouse kick, her bound hands acting as a club that sent the nearest guard overboard. Silas was a blur of motion, disarming Marcus and using him as a human shield.
"The boy is already on a life-raft," Silas whispered into Marcus's ear. "I hacked your crane controls five minutes ago. Your men are currently guarding a pile of laundry."
"You... you bastard," Marcus wheezed.
"Run, Elara! Take the raft!" Silas yelled.
But Elara didn't run. She grabbed a fallen rifle and leveled it at Marcus's head. "I don't leave my husband behind," she said, the word husband dripping with a strange, new weight.
They escaped into the fog on a high-speed raft, Leo safely tucked in the hull. But as the lights of the destroyer faded, Silas looked at his hand. It was covered in blood.
"Silas! You're hit!"
"It's fine," he grunted, falling back against the seat. "Just... get us to Tokyo. The auction starts in twelve hours. We have to be the Sterlings... or we're dead before we even reach the hotel."