I kept my gun leveled as I moved toward the van, using the hood of my SUV for cover.

“Grant! Vanessa!” I yelled, my voice carrying over the roar of the jet engines.

The driver’s seat of the van was empty, a set of keys dangling from the ignition.

I crept closer, my boots crunching softly on the hard-packed snow.

Movement inside the hangar caught my eye.

A shadow shifted behind the frosted glass of the hangar’s office door.

I moved along the side of the building, my back pressed against the cold metal wall.

My earpiece beeped twice, a low-priority signal indicating an incoming encrypted text message.

I reached up with a gloved hand to tap the receiver, but before I could, the screen of my tactical phone lit up in my pocket.

It was an unknown number, and the preview screen showed a live video feed.

I tapped the screen of my tactical phone with a trembling, gloved thumb.

The live feed resolved into a grainy, low-light image of the hangar’s office interior.

My breath caught in my throat.