Chapter 10 — His Thumb on the Red Button

Operation Breakwater launched in seventy-eight minutes.

There was no time for a full rehearsal. We converted a harbor-maintenance office into a command post and rebuilt the raid around Kane’s new schedule.

The signal team positioned two jammers on opposite sides of the warehouse. The bomb technician strapped the blast sleeve beneath my coat and showed me how to lock my wrist inside it with one pull.

"If the ring pulses three times, assume the receiver has armed," he said. "Get your hand into the sleeve and turn your body away from everyone."

Adrian checked the mechanism himself.

"I stay at the west extraction point," he said.

"You stay there even if the raid begins."

He met my eyes. "Unless you call for me."

"Especially if I call for you. Your job is to coordinate extraction, not become it."

He did not promise. I should have made him.

Federal agents sealed the highway exits without lights or sirens. Harbor patrol drifted beyond the storm line. Port Alder officers hid inside refrigerated trucks, maintenance sheds, and an abandoned customs building overlooking Pier Nineteen.

The rain helped us.

It also cut visibility to twenty yards.

Before I left the command post, my father stopped me beside the door.

In our first life, our final conversation before the raid had been an argument. This time, he handed me a dry pair of gloves and checked the transmitter in my collar.

"I have a hundred things I want to say," he told me.

"Say them after I come back."

He swallowed and nodded.

"After."

I entered Warehouse Three at 9:42 p.m. with Kane’s ring locked around my finger.

Adrian’s voice reached me through a receiver disguised as a dental crown.

"East and north teams in position. Harbor team delayed four minutes by the current."

"The tide is coming in," I murmured.

Our emergency phrase.

"Do you need extraction?"

"Negative. It means Kane changed the floor plan. Buyers are on the mezzanine, product below. Tell Owen not to breach until I confirm the servers."

A pause.

"Understood. Your call."

Kane stood beside six steel cases at the center of the warehouse. Armed men lined both catwalks. The buyers’ representatives tested packets from a shipment large enough to poison three states.

One face on the mezzanine did not belong to a buyer. Deputy Harbor Commissioner Paul Vance stood behind the laptops, the same official who had delayed inspections throughout both timelines.

No file had ever proved he worked for Kane.

I pressed the edge of my thumbnail twice against the transmitter—a silent marker for the hidden camera. Vance’s face, Kane’s cases, and the buyers now occupied the same frame.

One more secret had nowhere left to hide.

Money moved through laptops instead of suitcases. I needed the transaction confirmed on-screen before federal prosecutors could tie the buyers to the accounts.

Kane handed me his biometric key fob.

The remote that controlled my ring rested against my palm.

"Authorize the transfer," he said.

I pressed his thumb to the scanner and held the device near the laptop. The payment counter began to climb.

Five million.

Twelve million.

Twenty-eight million dollars.

The finance server opened to accept the final deposit.

Every target was present. Every account was active. Every weapon and packet was being recorded by our hidden cameras.

"Breakwater confirmed," I said.

The warehouse exploded with movement.

Officers breached the west doors. Flash charges blinded the gunmen on the catwalk. Federal agents poured through the loading bay while harbor patrol blocked the water exit.

Vance reached for the server’s emergency erase switch.

I vaulted the table and drove my boot through the laptop stand. The server slid beneath a steel cage while Vance fell against the railing. An agent secured him before he could follow.

On the north catwalk, a gunman aimed at Daniel.

I fired first. My bullet struck the weapon from his hand, and Daniel pulled two officers behind cover.

The twelve names Natalie once delivered to Kane moved through the warehouse alive, taking positions, protecting one another, finishing the mission they had died trying to complete.

I drove my elbow into Kane’s throat and tore the key fob from his hand.

He recovered faster than he had in my first life.

His knife cut through my jacket and opened my shoulder. I trapped his wrist, broke one finger, and forced him to the floor.

Gunfire cracked above us.

"Police! Drop your weapons!"

One buyer tried to close the finance server. I kicked the laptop beyond his reach and pinned Kane with my knee.

"Victor Kane, you are under arrest."

He looked at me through the blood running from his nose.

"Detective Mercer."

Hearing my real name from him stopped my breath.

He laughed.

"Natalie finally told me the truth."

"Natalie has been in custody for eighteen months."

His smile faltered.

"Every message since then came from us," I said. "Every shipment you lost. Every account you opened. Every enemy you blamed. You built your own prison because I told you where to put the walls."

Rage replaced surprise.

He lunged for the key fob.

I threw it toward the evidence team, but one of Kane’s men tackled the agent who reached for it. The device skidded beneath a loading platform.

Kane twisted out from under me and dove after it.

I caught his ankle. He kicked my injured shoulder and crawled into the narrow space.

"Jammer on!" Owen shouted over the radio.

The task force activated the blocker.

Nothing happened.

The warehouse’s steel frame and active radios fractured the signal coverage. My ring pulsed twice—the receiver searching, waiting.

Kane emerged with the key fob clenched in his fist.

I aimed at his hand.

He dragged a wounded gunman into my line of fire and pressed the remote against the man’s neck.

"Shoot," Kane said. "Kill him before I kill you."

I shifted left. Kane shifted with me, keeping the hostage between us.

"Put it down. The building is surrounded."

"Then neither of us leaves."

Adrian appeared through the west door.

He was supposed to remain in the extraction vehicle.

"Stay back!" I shouted.

His gaze went from the ring to Kane’s thumb.

The hostage collapsed as Kane shoved him aside.

I fired.

The bullet struck the remote but did not destroy it. Plastic shattered. Beneath it, the protected red switch remained intact.

Kane smiled.

His thumb began to fall.

Adrian ran toward me.

"No!"

He seized my right wrist, ripped the ring over my knuckle with skin and blood, and closed it inside his hand.

Kane pressed the button.