The North Woods were unforgiving, but the silence was worse.
Jaxon's designer shoes, worth more than a commoner's yearly salary, were ruined—caked in mud and soaked through with freezing slush. He didn't care. His hand was still locked firmly around Yuna's as they crested a jagged ridge, looking back at the distant, flickering lights of the Academy.
"We have exactly four hours before the Thorne family satellites recalibrate to this sector," Jaxon panted, his breath visible in the moonlight. "My father will burn this entire forest to find us."
Yuna stopped. She didn't look tired; she looked like she was finally in her natural habitat. She reached into her tactical suit and pulled out the Crown Jewel. The blue light pulsed against her pale skin, illuminating the cold determination in her eyes.
"They won't find us, Jaxon," she said, her voice steady. "Because we aren't running anymore."
She knelt in the dirt, opening a rugged, slim-line laptop she'd stashed in a hollowed-out tree days in advance. "We're going to use the drive. If we're going to be outcasts, we might as well be the ones holding the world hostage."
Jaxon leaned over her shoulder, watching the lines of code scroll by. "You're going to leak it?"
"No," Yuna whispered, her fingers dancing across the keys. "I'm going to rewrite it. I'm giving us new identities. From this second on, Jaxon Thorne and Yuna are dead. Meet the new ghosts of the Shadow Market."
A single Enter keystroke sent a ripple through the dark web. Miles away, in a high-rise office, Leo Sterling's monitors turned red.
The hunt hadn't just begun. The prey had just grown teeth.