Page 169 of Primal

I move the trackpad. The cursor’s frozen. Only text pouring in.

“Shit.”

Wesley leans over my shoulder. “How long do we have?”

“Six minutes plus. But the timer’s gone now.”

He stares at the mess of code. “What the hell are we supposed to look for?”

Kade shifts in the chair—enough to draw both our eyes. “He probably didn’t build it to look like a bomb.”

Wesley frowns. “Then what does it look like?”

“Small,” Kade rasps, wincing. “Black box. Wires. Most likely rigged to a battery, not the mains.”

Great. We’re inside a fucking tomb, and I can’t even hear any ticking.

“Check the racks,” Kade breathes. “Start there.”

Wesley’s already moving.

I follow, my eyes sweeping across rows of metal towers humming low.

He crouches, yanks open a panel. “You sure we got the right place?”

“No,” I mutter, dropping beside him.

He starts checking cables.

We work fast. Wipe dust off power bricks. Tug wires. Peer behind outlets and under desks. Even without a countdown, I feel it. The too-late pressing in.

Five minutes. Maybe four. Less?

Nothing behind the racks.

Nothing under the desk.

Nothing but cold air and goosebumps.

Kade coughs behind us. A wet, wrecked sound that doesn’t stop.

I shoot to my feet. “Wesley—”

“There’s nothing. Not back here.”

I stare at the walls. The windows. The corners.

“That’s it.” Wesley’s voice is flat. “We’re leaving.”

Kade’s hand claws into his. “No. The files—”

“Are gone, man. Look at you. And the fucking bomb … any second now.”

“There’s time. Check the ceiling.”

He coughs—chokes on it.

I’m at his side in a heartbeat, hand on his shoulder, grounding us both. “Kade …”