"She's down. Proceed to reversing the military alliance heading to the bases and warehouses. Send a signal to her dogs to retreat the mission—start with the sniper near the Hale empire," Tyson said flatly, phone pressed to his ear as he sped through the city streets. No emotion, just sharp orders.
"Yes, boss," the voice responded on the other end.
The hacker with his man got to work, fast. Tesmee's voice was cloned—calm, steady, almost too natural—and one by one, messages rolled out. Lyra. Lorenzo. Diana. Blake. Seig. Tiger. Vhernom. Chan. Each of them got the same command: mission retreat. Stand down.
No questions asked. Her voice was enough to freeze them in place.
Back on that quiet street, Tesmee still lay there. The silence around her was heavy, broken only by the distant hum of a city that had no idea its queen had fallen—if only for a moment.
The rest of her team regrouped at her house, expecting her to be there already. Maybe pacing, maybe furious, maybe coming up with a new plan. But the guards said she hadn't returned. Not even passed by.
"Where could she be?" Lorenzo muttered, pulling his phone out and sitting on the edge of the couch. He dialed her number. It rang. And rang. Then went to voicemail.
"Nothing..." he said, glancing at Lyra.
Tesmee always answered her phone. Always. Especially in times like this—after a mission. After a failed one. After a move like that.
And that's what chilled them most.
Something wasn't right.
"Try her again… maybe she's just ignoring it, trying to think or settle her thoughts on what just happened," Diana said quietly, leaning on the edge of the small table, trying to ease the tension that had crept into the room like a fog.
"She's a strong woman," Tiger added, placing his sniper bag down gently beside the door, his voice steady, but his eyes sharp—watching everything, calculating.
"Tyson is still capable," Lorenzo muttered, eyes glued to his phone. He tried to keep his voice flat, but the way his fingers trembled slightly, the way he swallowed down the silence—it betrayed him. His calm was only a mask.
There was a pause.
A long, thick pause.
"Why would she pull us out when we were that close?" Lyra finally spoke, pacing a little near the window. "She never retreats unless she's bleeding."
Tiger glanced up at that. "Or unless she's not the one calling it."
Lorenzo's head snapped up.
The room went silent again.
Then Diana slowly sat up straighter. "You think it wasn't her?"
"I don't know," Tiger said, voice low. "But it didn't feel like her. No anger. No edge. It sounded… perfect. Too perfect."
Lorenzo looked back down at his screen.
"I'll trace the origin of that message."
Try tracking her location," Lorenzo ordered.
Lyra was already on it, fingers flying across the keyboard. A tense silence settled over the room. After four long minutes, she spoke. "Got her. She's not far."
Lorenzo stood. "Tiger, Diana — you're on her. Now. Lyra, Seig, Blake, Chan, Vhernom — with me. We need to trace the voice message that pulled the military back. We move in twenty."
Everyone nodded. No time for hesitation.
Tiger and Diana reached the site fast. Headlights cut across the quiet street, landing on a figure sprawled near the curb.
"There," Diana breathed, frozen. Blood glinted on Tesmee's forehead.
"Wait," Tiger warned, arm out. "Could be a trap. You got the night binoculars?"
"In the back," she answered, voice tight.
He reached behind the seat, scanned the surrounding rooftops and treeline. His jaw tensed. "Clear."
They bolted out of the car.
Diana dropped beside Tesmee. "She's breathing—barely."
Tiger crouched beside them. "Tyson did this."
Diana's eyes burned. "He better pray she wakes up."
Tiger carefully lifted Tesmee. "Let's get her out of here. Fast."
"Diana, take her car," Tiger said, already lifting Tesmee into his arms. "I'll bring her in mine. We head back, no stops."
Diana gave a quick nod and slid into Tesmee's driver seat, eyes darting to the bloodstained passenger side. Her grip on the wheel tightened as she followed behind.
Back at the safehouse, tension thickened the air. The team was locked in — tracing signals, hacking into Hale surveillance, combing every encrypted path that could give them an edge.
The doors burst open.
Tiger walked in, cradling Tesmee like something fragile, Diana right behind him. Lorenzo looked up — and in a flash, he was across the room, taking her into his own arms and laying her gently onto the couch.
"She's bleeding," Blake muttered.
"It's a blunt head injury and a shot to the gut — but it wasn't meant to kill," Tiger said grimly.
"She'll wake up," Lorenzo said, brushing a blood-matted strand of hair from her face. "She has to."
He stood, masking the storm brewing behind his eyes.
"For now... we dig deeper."
"Send out the affirmation. Make it clear — the mission's over," Tyson said, hands buried deep in his pockets, jaw locked tight. His voice was low, clipped. "And in ten minutes… I want the military status."
"Yes, boss," the hacker replied. The call ended with a cold click.
Tyson turned, dropping onto the leather couch with a long exhale. Shadows sat heavy on his shoulders.
Ten minutes later, back at Tesmee's base, Lorenzo was ready to re-engage. Lyra sat beside Tesmee, fingers flying over her laptop, eyes tense behind her glasses.
Suddenly — Tesmee jolted awake with a violent gasp.
"FUCK!"
Her hand shot to her stomach, pain radiating from the wound. Without warning, she hurled the glass from the table against the wall. It shattered, echoing through the room.
Lorenzo didn't flinch. "Glad you're back," he said coolly. "Tyson shut the mission down using your voice. Military's pulled back. We were about to—"
"Let it be," Tesmee cut him off, her voice rough but steady.
Lorenzo blinked. "What? Tesmee, no. You can't be serious—we're too deep in to back off now!"
"If we push now, someone dies." Her voice was cold steel. "And it's too early for casualties on our side."
She rose, blood still drying on her skin, standing like a queen fallen but not broken. "It wasn't a failure, Lorenzo. It was a lesson. We jumped too fast — no groundwork with the military, no full plan."
He stared at her, fists clenched, but he didn't interrupt.
"We'll strike again — but next time with precision. Full collaboration. No more one-minute calls to armies." Her tone softened, but only slightly. "This is survival chess. I'm not sacrificing a single piece unless it's checkmate."
She turned for the stairs, pausing only once. "Take a week. Recharge. When we return, we draft to destroy."
And just like that, she vanished up the stairs — leaving silence and fire in her wake.