“They are gathered around the transport unit.”

“Stack up,” Rowan’s voice was calm, almost robotic.

“On my mark. Three, two, one, break.”

A loud crash echoed through the radio speaker, followed by the sharp, metallic pop of a flashbang.

Even from the parking lot, I saw a brief flicker of white light behind the high, frosted windows of the hangar.

“Down on the ground! Do it now!” Marcus yelled.

I held my breath, waiting for the sound of automatic gunfire.

Instead, there was only the sound of shouting and heavy scuffling over the radio.

“Hands behind your head,” a tactical officer ordered.

“Secure the perimeter,” Rowan said.

His voice sounded distant from the microphone.

“Where is the child?” Rowan asked.

A long pause stretched out, filled only with the hum of the hangar’s ventilation system.

“Marcus, check the capsule.”

I listened, my fingers digging into the vinyl of the steering wheel until they ached.

The sound of a heavy plastic latch clicking open came through the receiver.

“Rowan,” Marcus said, his voice dropping an octave.

“It’s empty.”

“What do you mean, empty?” Rowan’s voice lost its tight control.