Chapter 15 : INSIDE THE LION'S DEN
The comm channel crackled with static before Skye's voice came through, bright and professional.
"Testing, testing. Can you hear me?"
"Loud and clear," Ward responded from his position near the compound's perimeter. "You're good to go."
I sat in the Bus's command center, surrounded by screens displaying every feed we had access to—satellite imagery, local traffic cams, the compound's external sensors. None of it showed me what I actually needed: what was happening inside.
The party had started an hour ago. Skye had walked through the front gates fifteen minutes later, dressed in something expensive that Simmons had produced from somewhere I didn't want to ask about. The invitation had been easier to acquire than expected—Quinn's people had practically jumped at the chance to meet a genuine Rising Tide operative.
Which meant Quinn had been planning something like this. Waiting for an opportunity.
"Visual on target," Skye murmured, her voice low enough to pass as ambient conversation. "Quinn's working the room. Lots of handshaking. Very political."
"Don't engage until you've identified the security setup," Coulson instructed from his position with Ward. "We need those defenses down before we can move."
"Copy that."
I watched the satellite feed, tracking the movement of guards around the compound's exterior. Their patterns were regular, predictable—professional security operating on a rotation. The interior was a black box.
My leg bounced under the console. I forced it to stop.
"He's approaching," Skye said. "Showtime."
The next ten minutes were torture.
I listened to Skye work Quinn—the careful dance of flirtation and ideological alignment, each word calibrated to draw him in while keeping her own motivations hidden. She was good at this. Better than I'd expected. Quinn's responses came through as background noise, his oily charm making my skin crawl even through the comm.
"He's buying it," Skye whispered during a moment when Quinn stepped away to greet another guest. "Wants to show me something. Private tour."
"Stay in public areas as long as possible," Coulson warned.
"He's being very insistent. I think this might be our angle—if I can get him to show me the security setup—"
"Risky."
"Everything about this is risky. Let me do my job."
A pause. Then: "Proceed with caution."
Skye moved deeper into the compound with Quinn. Her voice faded in and out as walls interfered with the signal. I caught fragments—Quinn talking about potential, about changing the world, about people who understood what technology could really do.
"—interested in our research division," Quinn's voice, clearer now. "We're doing things here that SHIELD won't touch. Too bureaucratic. Too afraid of progress."
"I've always believed that knowledge shouldn't have gatekeepers," Skye responded. Perfect pitch—enthusiastic but not eager, curious but not desperate.
"Exactly. That's why I reached out to Rising Tide. You understand. The establishment wants to control everything—information, technology, power. We want to set it free."
And use it to make yourself richer and more powerful, I thought. The oldest con in the book.
"Here's where the magic happens."
A door opening. Skye's breathing changed—surprise, maybe, or recognition of danger.
"That's... impressive." Her voice had gone slightly flat. Controlled.
"Gravitonium. The rarest element on Earth. With the right application, it can do anything. Move mountains. Reshape continents. Redefine what's possible."
"And Dr. Hall is helping you with this?"
"Frank and I go way back. He understands the potential better than anyone. It just took some... persuasion to get him here."
"Persuasion."
"Everyone has a price, Ms. Thompson. Frank's was the chance to work with unlimited resources, no oversight, no restrictions. He's happier here than he ever was with SHIELD."
I gripped the console edge hard enough to hurt. Quinn was lying—Hall hadn't been given a choice, not really. He'd been kidnapped and offered a deal he couldn't refuse. But there was truth mixed in with the manipulation. Hall wanted to work with the gravitonium. He wanted to prove his theories.
And that wanting would destroy him.
"I'd love to see it up close," Skye said. "The gravitonium, I mean."
"That can be arranged. But first—" Quinn's voice dropped, turned silk-smooth. "Tell me why SHIELD sent you."
The comm channel went dead.
---
I was out of my chair before the silence registered.
"Skye's dark," I reported, already moving toward the exit. "Quinn made her."
"Hold position," Coulson ordered. "She may be maintaining cover."
"She went dark mid-sentence. That's not maintaining cover, that's being compromised."
"Jake, I'm ordering you to—"
I pulled the earpiece and kept moving.
The Bus was parked three miles from Quinn's compound, hidden in a private airfield we'd commandeered for the operation. I grabbed a tactical vest from the equipment locker, checked the knife Ward had let me borrow during mission prep, and headed for the cargo ramp.
"Jake." Ward's voice, not through comms but in person. He was standing at the base of the ramp, arms crossed. "Coulson told you to hold."
"Coulson isn't hearing what I'm hearing. She's in trouble."
"Maybe. Or maybe she's playing a deeper game. Skye knows what she's doing."
"And if she doesn't? If Quinn's already hurting her, or handing her over to his security, or—" I stopped, forced myself to breathe. "I can't sit here and wait for confirmation. Not with her."
Ward studied me for a long moment. Something shifted in his expression—recognition, maybe. Understanding.
"The compound's perimeter has a weak point on the north side. Guard rotation creates a forty-second window every twelve minutes." He stepped aside. "Don't get caught."
I didn't stop to question his help. Didn't stop to think about what it meant that the man who would betray us all was giving me tactical assistance to save someone we both claimed to care about.
I just ran.
---
The compound wall was twelve feet of smooth stone, topped with sensors that would scream if anything touched them.
I scaled it in eight seconds flat.
My enhanced strength made the climb possible—fingers finding purchase in gaps too small for normal humans, legs pushing off with force that defied normal physics. The sensors never triggered because I never touched the top of the wall, instead vaulting over the gap and landing in a controlled roll on the manicured lawn inside.
The impact jarred my healing ribs. I ignored the pain and kept moving.
Quinn's estate was massive—main house, guest buildings, research facilities spread across grounds that could have housed a small village. Guards patrolled in pairs, their movements regular and predictable just like Ward had promised.
I moved through shadows, every sense straining.
The main house glittered with party lights, music and laughter spilling through open windows. Not there—Skye had gone deeper, to wherever Quinn kept his secrets.
The research building. Had to be.
I circled toward it, staying low, timing my movements to the gaps in patrol patterns. The training with May—brutal as it was—had taught me something about moving efficiently, about minimizing profile, about using terrain.
I wasn't good at it yet. But I was good enough.
The research building was glass and steel, modern architecture that didn't match the estate's older aesthetic. Security was heavier here—cameras, sensors, guards at every entrance.
But there was a maintenance access on the roof. A vent system that connected to the main labs.
I climbed again, this time using a drainage pipe that groaned under my weight but held. The roof access was locked—I forced it with strength that bent metal—and dropped into a corridor that smelled of chemicals and electricity.
Voices ahead. Skye's among them.
She was alive. Now to keep her that way.
I moved toward the sound, knife in hand, heart pounding. Whatever waited around that corner, whatever Quinn had planned, whatever choice I'd have to make about Hall and the gravitonium—
None of it mattered if Skye didn't walk out of here.
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