Page 111 of Rescuing Ember

The security feeds paint a story of destruction. Blaze’s team flows through the building like an unstoppable tide. The Rufi units bound ahead, mechanical death-dealing precision killing machines. There’s nothing but red and darkness on the screens now, a massacre unfolding floor by floor.

The twenty-first floor falls.

“Sir!” The tablet screams to life. “They’ve got some kind of tech we’ve never seen. They’re mapping the building faster than we can—” Static swallows the rest.

The twenty-second floor erupts in chaos.

“… multiple breaches … they’re ghosts … can’t stop … please…”

Wolfe’s remaining guards pour into the office. Blood and fear paint their faces, desperation in their eyes. They’re not soldiers anymore, just men fighting for their lives.

“Hold them,” Wolfe commands, his voice cracking. “Whatever it takes.”

The men take positions, weapons trained on the door. Their hands shake. Sweat drips onto the expensive carpets, staining them, just like Wolfe’s empire is being stained with blood.

The tablet displays the slaughter below. Floor by floor, Wolfe’s carefully constructed world burns. His men fall like dominoes before Guardian’s assault; each collapse a testament to their unstoppable resolve.

“Status report,” Wolfe barks into the radio, his face twisted with rage and fear.

Only static answers.

The helicopter’s blades thrum closer, growing louder but not loud enough to drown out the chaos closing in.

A guard’s radio crackles. “They’re through. Twenty-third floor… oh God, the blood… they’re not stopping… they’re?—”

Silence.

Wolfe drags me toward the roof stairs, his composure shredding with every breath. “Move!” he yells, his eyes wild.

“Incoming!” A guard screams, his face twisted in terror.

The office door explodes inward. Smoke billows, filling the room in thick, dark waves. Red targeting lasers pierce the haze, like death itself reaching out.

The guards open fire, their shots wild with panic. Bullets tear through the smoke, blind and desperate.

Mechanical shapes surge through the haze. they leap, their metal jaws finding throats, arteries, weak points in armor. They move like shadows—silent, deadly, relentless.

Screams fill the air. Blood paints the walls, dripping in scarlet rivulets. The guards fall, their bodies broken by machine and bullet alike. The room becomes a slaughterhouse.

Wolfe yanks me through the roof access door, slamming it shut behind us. A helicopter’s roar drowns out the carnage below as he drags me across the roof. The wind whips around us, tearing at my hair and biting into my skin.

“You’re not leaving me,” he snarls, his face twisted in fury and desperation. “You’re mine. Forever mine.”

The helicopter descends, its blades slicing through the night air. But below, the sounds of systematic destruction continue, getting closer.

Floor by floor.

They’re coming, and nothing is going to stop them.

Blaze is coming.

And Wolfe’s world is burning.

The roof access door splinters behind us. Metal screams as it tears from its hinges.

Smoke pours through the opening, dark tendrils curling into the night. Red targeting lasers pierce the darkness, searching.

Mechanical paws click against the concrete, the sound deliberate, echoing like a countdown.

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