They gave the rookie nurse the deaf Navy SEAL because they wanted to watch her fail.

The walk from the basement substation to the first-floor administrative office was a silent, tactical march.

Lily walked down the center of the wide corridor, her hands visible, her fingers wrapped loosely around the titanium casing of the hard drive. She had changed her torn scrub top for a clean white lab coat she had found in the laundry room—a deliberate choice to cover the Sig Sauer pistol she had tucked into the small of her back.

Caleb followed ten paces behind her, moving through the shadows of the alcoves with the weightless, lethal grace of an operator in an enemy compound. His chest was bare, his scars on display under the bright lights, his hands steady and empty.

They reached the glass doors of the administrative suite.

Inside, the scene was exactly as it had been on the monitor. Concincaid stood near the window, his tailored suit immaculate, his remote detonator resting loosely in his left hand. The man in the dark suit—the last remaining hitman from the Baltimore cell—kept his weapon locked on Vance’s head.

"Ah, Nurse Parker," Concincaid said as Lily pushed the door open, his voice dripping with that same condescension he had used in the hallway three hours ago. "I see you brought the asset. And the property."

"Let them go, Concincaid," Lily said, her voice quiet and level as she stepped into the center of the room, her eyes scanning the layout, calculating the angles of attack. "The federal marshals are already crossing the bridge. The alarms went straight to the naval base when we threw the manual bus bar."

"The marshals won't make it past the security gates before this building is leveled, Lily," Concincaid said, holding up the remote. "The Lombardi family paid me five million dollars to ensure this drive never leaves this facility. That money is already in a Cayman account. I don't care about the hospital, and I certainly don't care about these pathetic excuses for medical staff."

He pointed to Trevor and Mara, who were weeping silently against the radiator.

"Give me the drive," Concincaid commanded, extending his hand.

Lily stepped forward, her hand reaching into her lab coat pocket. She pulled out the small, heavy titanium block, holding it up just enough for the light to catch the scorched markings on the casing.

"You want the names, Doctor?" she asked, her voice dropping into a cold, dangerous register that made Concincaid’s eyes narrow. "The names of the men who sold out my unit? The ones who thought they could hide behind a desk while my friends died in the sand?"

She took another step closer, her body positioning itself perfectly between the hitman’s gun and Director Vance.

"They're all on here," she whispered. "But you forgot one thing about the Sparrow protocol."

"And what is that?" Concincaid sneered.

Behind him, Caleb’s hand rose in a single, lightning-fast tactical sequence that only Lily could see.

Execute, his fingers signaled.

In a fraction of a second, Caleb driven his fist through the large glass window pane of the office door behind Concincaid, the heavy safety glass shattering into a thousand pieces. The distraction was instantaneous. The hitman’s eyes darted toward the sound for a microsecond—the only microsecond Lily needed.

She dropped to her knees, her right hand reaching behind her back, pulling the Sig Sauer from her waistband in a single, fluid motion.

She fired two shots upward.

The first round caught the hitman through the center of his throat, cutting off his breath before he could pull the trigger on Vance. The second round struck Concincaid through the right shoulder, the concussive force of the bullet ripping the remote detonator from his fingers and sending it spinning across the floor.

Concincaid let out a sharp, high-pitched shriek of agony, stumbling backward against the desk, his hand clutching his shattered shoulder as blood began to soak through his expensive suit jacket.

Caleb stepped through the broken door frame, his boot coming down hard on the remote detonator, crushing the plastic casing into useless wires and batteries. He looked down at Concincaid, his pale blue eyes cold and empty of any human pity.