The silence following the crash of the flash-bang was ringing and heavy. Lina worked with mechanical efficiency, her fingers blurring across Leo's keyboard as she initiated a deep-shred command on the server. The monitors flickered, the agonizing footage of Arm's private moment dissolving into lines of red code before vanishing into blackness.
Arm slumped forward the moment the zip-ties fell, his face buried in his hands. He couldn't look at Mild. He couldn't even look at the floor. The revelation of the Rolex, the secret photos, and the raw vulnerability of the video felt like a second, more permanent set of chains.
"It's done," Lina signed sharply, her chest heaving. "The local drives are wiped."
