Page 38 of Over the Edge

She raised an eyebrow. “You stole Ozzy’s prototype?”

“Borrowed,” I corrected with a smirk.

“Borrowing implies he knows you have it.”

“Just a temporary reallocation of resources.” I activated the jammer. “Besides, he’d never let me test it otherwise.”

“He’s going to kill you.”

“Only if he finds out.” I watched the tiny light shift on the device shift from red to green. “We’re good. Clock’s ticking.”

Lyric moved immediately, extracting a set of lock picks from her belt. She worked fast, and within seconds I heard the satisfying click of the lock disengaging. She was good—really good. Like, better-than-me good, though I’d never admit that out loud.

She eased the door open just enough for us to slip through, and we entered the darkness of the hangar’s service corridor.

The air inside was cool and smelled of jet fuel and metal. Our footsteps were whisper-quiet as we moved deeper into the building. Up ahead, a slice of light spilled from beneath a door.

“Movement,” Lyric breathed, freezing in place.

I nodded, drawing my SIG and keeping it low. We pressed ourselves against opposite walls as the door opened, spilling harsh fluorescent light into the corridor. A guard stepped through, radio crackling at his hip, heading in the opposite direction.

Once he was gone, we continued forward, following the corridor until it opened into the main hangar space. We paused at the threshold, taking in the scene before us.

The hangar was massive, easily large enough to house multiple private jets, but instead of aircraft, the space was filled with shipping containers arranged in a grid. Armed guards patrolled the perimeter, their movements regular and predictable.

“Holy shit,” Lyric murmured as we slid into cover behind one of the containers. “How are we going to find Sentinel?”

I spotted a stack of crates nearby and shot her a quick grin. “Can you climb?” Before she could protest, I slipped away, scaling the crates to reach the catwalk that ran along the upper perimeter of the hangar. From here, I was shielded from view by the poor lighting, but had a perfect view of the entire operation below.

Lyric settled next to me with a huff. “What are you, freaking Spider-Man?”

“I’m a man of many talents.”

She snorted softly and looked down at the floor below. “My God. There’s so much more than just Sentinel here.”

“Yeah, looks like Moreau’s been collecting all the fun toys.”

The sheer volume of tech assembled in the hangar was staggering. It wasn’t just Sentinel MK-IV. This was a full-blown black market weapons bazaar in the making and I dreaded to think what other goodies waited in those many crates. If even one of these technologies fell into the wrong hands, the consequences would be catastrophic. All of them together? Unthinkable.

I spotted Vidal across the hangar, standing with two Asian men in expensive suits who were definitely not security. One handed him a tablet, which he studied intently before nodding.

“Buyers,” Lyric breathed. “Fuck. They’re doing pre-auction viewings.”

I grabbed my radio off my belt. “Time to loop in the team.”

“Wait—” she started, but I’d already switched to the team’s secure channel.

“Grim, this is Outlaw. Come in.”

A beat of silence, then Ethan’s voice came through my earpiece. He sounded calm and collected, but I knew the man better than just about anyone. He was pissed. “Outlaw. Where the fuck are you and Siren? Oz said you’re not at the hotel.”

“We took a joyride and ended up in Broker’s storage facility.”

A beat. “You’re…where?”

Oh, yeah. He was beyond pissed. I could picture him pinching the bridge of his nose right now, that vein in his temple throbbing.

“Siren planted a tracker on Broker’s security chief. He led us to a hangar at a private airfield. There’s more than just Sentinel here. It’s a goddamn candy store of illegal tech. Multiple containers, armed security, and potential buyers already getting tours.”

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