Suddenly, a bright light illuminated the path directly ahead of us.

“Stop right there,” a voice called out from the darkness.

A mercenary stepped out from behind a massive cedar tree, his rifle aimed directly at Ryker’s chest.

In his left hand, the man held a tactical tablet that was glowing with a blue light.

The screen displayed a schematic of the estate.

“Drop the weapon, Steel,” the mercenary said. “And hand over the kids.”

Ryker didn’t drop his rifle.

Instead, his eyes drifted down to the glowing screen of the tablet.

On the screen, a small flashing icon showed our exact coordinates in real-time.

A realization seemed to wash over Ryker’s face, his expression turning from cold determination to absolute fury.

The GPS tracker was active.

And the signal was coming from inside our own network.

Before the mercenary could pull his trigger, a high-pitched beep emitted from Ryker’s own pocket, a notification light flashing on his secure phone.

The mercenary’s eyes flicked down toward the sound in Ryker’s pocket.

It was the only mistake he had time to make.