Kai didn't sleep.
He sat on the edge of the narrow bed, the device resting on the table across from him like a loaded weapon that refused to fire. Every few minutes, his eyes drifted back to it—not out of curiosity, but obligation. Whatever this thing was, it had already dragged too many people into its orbit.
And it wasn't done.
Jax stood by the window, arms folded, scanning the street below. He'd been quiet longer than usual. That alone told Kai something was wrong.
"They're tightening," Jax finally said. "Not loud. Not reckless. Just… closer."
Kai exhaled slowly. "How close?"
"Close enough that if we move wrong, we don't get a second chance."
That was the problem now. In the beginning, everything had been reaction—run, hide, strike first. But the game had shifted. The people after the device weren't just chasing anymore. They were positioning.
Pressure points.
Kai stood and walked to the table. He didn't touch the device. He didn't need to. Just being near it made his chest feel heavy.
"They want me," he said. "Not just the device. Me."
Jax nodded. "You figured that out late."
Kai didn't rise to the jab. His thoughts were already elsewhere—back to the moment everything stopped being theoretical. Back to the night he'd realized this wasn't about money or power.
This was personal.
"They're testing limits," Kai continued. "Seeing who I'll protect. Who I'll hesitate for."
"And?" Jax asked.
"And I'm done reacting."
Silence settled between them. Not the calm kind—this one buzzed with intent.
Jax turned from the window. "Say it clean."
Kai met his eyes. "We flip it."
A pause.
"Explain," Jax said carefully.
"They expect me to keep running. Keep circling. I don't do that anymore." Kai finally picked up the device, its cold surface grounding him. "We choose the next move. We choose where the pressure hits."
Jax studied him for a long moment, then gave a short, humorless laugh. "You know what that means."
"I do."
"It means no more clean exits."
"It means they bleed first."
Another silence—heavier now.
"Who do we use?" Jax asked.
Kai didn't answer immediately. His jaw tightened.
"That's the part I hate," he said. "But they already crossed that line. I didn't."
Jax nodded once. "Then we do it smart. No noise. No heroes."
Kai set the device back down. "There's a hub. Not the top. Not the bottom. The place they don't expect to be touched."
Jax's eyebrows lifted slightly. "You're sure?"
"I wouldn't say it if I wasn't."
For the first time that night, something shifted. Not relief. Not confidence.
Momentum.
Outside, a car slowed as it passed the building. Kai didn't look. He didn't need to. The fear that once lived in his chest had changed shape.
It wasn't fear anymore.
It was focus.
Whatever this device was connected to—whoever was pulling strings—it was about to feel resistance for the first time.
And Kai wasn't planning to stop at survival.