Iora, Ryker, and Ryn crouched low in the hedge shadows outside Sir Gordon's mansion, the late afternoon sun bleeding long lines of gold across the white stone walls.
This was probably a bad idea, but they had no option. They had spent a lot of time talking about how they would go about it.
The low hum of security drones vibrated above them, their lenses scanning with eerie precision, but Ryn's custom jammer pulsed steadily at his side, holding the drones in a fragile digital sleep.
Iora's pulse thudded against her ribs. Her green eyes swept the perimeter as she adjusted her dark cloak. "We go in quiet," she murmured, her voice barely a breath. "We should find Karl and get out."
Ryker gave a curt nod, his fingers flexing around the grip of his blaster. "Let's stick to the plan," he said, glancing at Ryn. "You are on the locks."
