Chapter 18 · Ninety Seconds

The drone screen lit up with Derek's face and a timer already counting down. Eighty-seven seconds.

Ryan didn't think. He ran.

The hallway outside the observation room was narrow, industrial, the kind of space designed for maintenance crews and server techs. Not foot chases. His boots slammed against the grated floor and the sound echoed off bare walls. The protocol was still buzzing in the back of his skull, quieter now but not gone. It wanted him to stop. Wanted him to let the system do its job.

He told it to go to hell.

Seventy-four seconds.

He didn't know where Derek was. The facility map in his HUD was fragmented, half the sectors grayed out or marked restricted. But he knew the drones. Knew how they moved. They'd herd Derek toward a killbox, somewhere with limited exits and clear lines of fire. Probably one of the old cargo bays on the lower level.

Ryan hit the stairwell at a dead sprint and took the steps three at a time. His left leg screamed at him halfway down but he didn't slow. The regulator in his chest was cycling hard, trying to keep up with the adrenaline spike.