Chapter 9 · Military Asset Awake

Ryan came back to the smell of boot leather and blood.

His face was pressed against cold concrete. Someone had zip-tied his wrists behind his back. The ties bit into his skin every time he breathed. His neural port throbbed like someone had shoved a hot wire through his skull.

Boots scraped on both sides of him. Three, maybe four people. Heavy tac gear from the sound of it.

"Confirm the source?" A woman's voice. Clipped. Professional.

"Yeah. Port signature matches the ping. It's him." Male. Younger. Nervous.

Ryan kept his breathing shallow. His left arm was numb again. The current had backfired through his whole nervous system when he'd dumped the charge into the cage floor. He could still taste copper.

"Wake him up."

A boot caught him in the ribs. Not hard enough to crack anything, but enough to make him grunt and roll onto his side. Ryan blinked up at four figures in black tac gear. No logos. No insignia. The kind of contractors who got paid to not exist.

The woman crouched down. Mid-thirties, buzzed hair, a scar cutting through her left eyebrow. She had a scanner in one hand.