Seraph was in the communications room, staring at the screen long after Jonah's face had disappeared from it.
Twenty-four hours. That's what she'd promised him.
Twenty-four hours to pull off something that should take weeks of planning with ten times the resources they actually had.
"You look like you're about to punch something."
She didn't turn around. Draven's footsteps were unmistakable.
"I'm thinking," she said.
"Dangerous habit." He limped into the room and sat on a chair across from her. His leg was still wrapped from the Iso-Cube disaster. Three weeks ago, Doc Santos had said he would need months to recover.
Three weeks later, here he was.
"So," Draven said. "We are robbing a train."
"We are capturing a high-value target who happens to be on a train." Seraph brought up the file she had been avoiding to look at.
"There's a difference."
"Is there?" Draven asked.
"One sounds more professional." Seraph responded.
