For three long seconds after the money vanished, the only sound in the cannery was the hum of the computer servers. The number on the screen—$187,430,000—glowed brightly. It was an amount of money so huge it was hard to even imagine, like a number from a fairy tale. Yet, they had just made it disappear with the press of a key, sending it flying across the world to places where Ramos could never find it. Through the tiny speaker on the desk, they could still hear the muffled sounds of Ramos's meeting continuing in his penthouse high above the city. The people there had no idea that a financial earthquake had just struck.

Then, the reaction began.

But the noise didn't come from the speaker. It came from the digital world outside their hidden workshop.

Suddenly, Kaito's main computer monitor flashed a bright, warning red. At the same time, dozens of other alerts—pop-up windows and error messages—exploded across his other screens, beeping and blinking for attention.

"Whoa!" Kaito gasped, his eyes darting between the screens. "The entire network... it's going crazy! Look at this!"

"What's happening?" Evelyn asked, her voice tight with fear. She leaned closer to see.

"It's Ramos's whole organization," Kaito explained, trying to make sense of the flood of information. "His money men, his top lieutenants at their computers... they're all discovering the truth at the same moment. The money is gone. Not just transferred to another account, but completely wiped out. The panic is spreading through his criminal empire like a sickness." He typed a command, and a map of the city appeared on one screen. Little dots representing Ramos's businesses were now glowing an angry, frantic red. "His whole system is falling apart in real time."

They listened, frozen in place, as the audio feed from the penthouse finally changed. The low rumble of conversation was interrupted by the sharp, sudden ringing of not one, but many cell phones. They heard a worried voice say, "Boss? I've got the bank on the line. They're saying... they're saying the main company account is empty. Zero balance."

Before that could sink in, another phone rang. A different voice, higher with panic, said, "Boss! The system just rejected the payroll for the dockworkers! It says 'insufficient funds'!"

The mood in the penthouse shifted instantly. The confident feeling of a powerful meeting vanished, replaced by a chaotic babble of confused and frightened voices.

Then, they heard his voice. Ramos. It was quiet, so low they had to strain to hear it, but it vibrated with a cold, pure rage that was more frightening than any scream.

"Everyone," he said, and that one word cut through the noise like a knife. "Get out."

They heard the sound of chairs scraping back, hurried footsteps, and a door closing firmly. Then, there was only silence on the line. A heavy, terrible silence.

Ace could easily picture the scene: Ramos alone in his expensive, powerful room, staring at a screen that showed his fortune had evaporated. The humiliation was total. He had been made to look weak and foolish in front of his most important men.

"He knows it was us," Silva whispered, putting their greatest fear into words. The feeling of triumph they had felt just moments ago was already turning into cold dread.

"He can't prove it," Kaito said, but he didn't sound sure of himself. "The path the money took is gone. It's been scattered to charities all over the world. It's impossible to follow."

"He doesn't need proof," Ace said, his eyes locked on the silent audio feed as if he could see Ramos through it. "He just needs to be certain in his own mind. And he is."

As if his words had summoned the devil himself, the silent audio feed crackled back to life. Ramos's voice came through again, cold and sharp as a razor blade. He was no longer speaking to the room; he was talking to one person—probably his head enforcer, Marcus.

"The children," Ramos said, and each word was soaked with poisonous hatred. "The little rats who thought they could play with fire. They have cost me everything I have built."

Ace felt the blood drain from his face, leaving him cold. This was it. The final judgment.

"There will be no more games," Ramos continued, and his tone was the most terrifying part. All the anger was gone, replaced by a flat, emotionless certainty. It was the voice of a man who had moved past rage into a calm, unstoppable purpose. "No more tests. The time for lessons is over."

He paused, and the silence on the line was heavy with menace.

"Bring them to me," he commanded, his voice devoid of any feeling. "I do not care how you do it. I do not care what you have to break or who you have to hurt. I want a scorched earth. The workshop, the barista's coffee shop, the hacker's grandmother's apartment. Burn it all to the ground if you have to. But you bring them to me. Alive. I will deal with them myself."

The line went dead with a final, soft click. Kaito's feed had been cut.

The cannery was plunged into a silence deeper and more frightening than any noise. The order had been given. 'Scorched earth.' This was no longer a threat. It was a death sentence, not just for them, but for everything and everyone they cared about.

<<<>>>

THREAT LEVEL: CATASTROPHIC.

DIRECTIVE: IMMEDIATE EVACUATION.

PREDICTION: ENEMY FORCES WILL MOBILIZE WITH MAXIMUM FORCE. NO HOLDS BARRED.

SURVIVAL PROBABILITY AT CURRENT LOCATION: 0.3%.

<<<>>>

The System's assessment was final. The numbers didn't lie. Staying meant certain death.

"We have to go! Right now!" Ace yelled, his voice cracking with a urgency that bordered on panic. He sprang into action, grabbing the most critical items—Kaito's encrypted laptops, Evelyn's external hard drives, the last bag of emergency cash. "Only the essentials! Leave everything else!"

A frantic scramble took over. They moved like ghosts, stuffing backpacks, yanking power cords from the wall, quickly wiping down surfaces to erase their fingerprints. They had drilled for this moment, but the real thing was a thousand times more terrifying.

"The servers!" Kaito cried out, his voice filled with anguish as he looked at the tall, humming racks that held all their work, all their secrets. "We can't just leave all the data! Ramos will get everything!"

"We can't carry them!" Ace shouted back, pulling a bag over his shoulder. "They're too heavy! We have to leave them!"

"He won't get anything useful," Evelyn said, her face set in a grim mask. She was holding a small, heavy, cylindrical device with a digital timer on one end. It looked like a high-tech magnet. "It's an EMP charge—an electromagnetic pulse. Kaito built it for this exact situation. When it goes off, it will send out a wave of energy that will fry every single electronic circuit in this room. The servers will be nothing more than useless boxes of metal and plastic. There will be no data to recover."

With steady hands, she set the timer for sixty seconds and placed the device carefully in the center of the main server rack. A loud, relentless BEEP… BEEP… BEEP… began to echo through the cannery, a countdown to the destruction of their home.

"Fifty-nine… fifty-eight…"

"Out! Now! Go!" Ace roared, shoving Silva toward the heavy loading bay door.

They burst out into the cool, quiet night air of the alley, the beeping growing fainter behind them. The rest of the city was asleep, peaceful and unaware. They sprinted down the narrow, damp passage between the buildings, their footsteps sounding like thunderclaps in the silence.

They had just reached the mouth of the alley, where it opened up onto a deserted side street, when the world exploded in light.

Two sets of blinding white headlights turned the corner, speeding directly toward them. These weren't the sedans Ramos usually sent. They were large, black SUVs with dark, impenetrable windows—the kind of vehicles used by soldiers and special police teams.

Ramos's response was faster than their worst nightmares. He hadn't sent ordinary criminals. He had sent a professional, military-style squad.

"Back! Get back!" Ace screamed, shoving everyone backward into the relative safety of the alley's darkness.

But it was already too late. The SUVs screeched to a halt, tires smoking, completely blocking the alley's entrance like two great, black beasts. Doors flew open simultaneously. Men clad head-to-toe in dark tactical gear poured out, moving with a smooth, practiced efficiency that was terrifying to watch. The streetlights glinted off the barrels of the assault rifles they carried.

They were trapped. The alley was a dead end. The only way out was sealed off by an armed and disciplined force.

"The other way!" Silva yelled, pointing desperately down the long, dark tunnel of the alley behind them. "There's a chain-link fence at the end! We can climb it!"

They turned and ran, their lungs burning, their hearts trying to pound their way out of their chests. The sound of heavy, booted feet echoed behind them, methodical and unhurried. Ace dared a look over his shoulder. The men were advancing in a spread-out formation, their weapons raised and ready. They weren't chasing. They were corralling. They were hunters, and Ace and his friends were the prey.

A blinding white beam of light suddenly flooded the alley from behind them. The spotlight from one of the SUVs had snapped on, turning the dark passage into a stage. They were now perfectly visible, caught like animals in a trap.

FWOMP.

A soft, distinctive sound, like a heavy cork being pulled from a bottle. A small, metal canister clattered onto the pavement just a few feet away, spinning and hissing like an angry snake. A thick, white smoke began to pour out of it, spreading with terrifying speed.

"Tear gas!" Kaito screamed, but his warning turned into a choking gag as the acrid cloud hit him. He doubled over, clutching his throat.

The smoke was a physical attack. It felt like rubbing hot sand into Ace's eyes, and each breath seared his lungs with a chemical fire. He stumbled, completely blind, tears streaming down his face. He heard Evelyn cry out in pain and confusion nearby, and Silva shout a raw, furious curse that was abruptly cut short.

Strong, impersonal hands grabbed him. He was spun around, his arms wrenched brutally behind his back. The cold, sharp plastic of a zip-tie was tightened around his wrists until it bit into his skin. In mere seconds, the fight was gone from him. The world was reduced to burning agony and helplessness.

It was over almost before it began. They were overwhelmed, outnumbered by professionals, and rendered helpless by weapons they couldn't fight. Their brilliant victory in the digital world meant nothing here, in this dirty alley, against the raw, brutal force of Ramos's rage.

As he was shoved and manhandled toward the idling SUV, Ace caught one last, blurred glimpse of the cannery. His tearing eyes made the world waver, but he saw it clearly enough: a bright, silent, blue-white flash from inside the building, followed by a fountain of orange sparks erupting behind the dusty windows. The EMP charge had detonated. In that instant, every computer, every hard drive, every memory of their struggle was wiped clean. Their fortress, their work, their brief history of defiance—it was all erased.

The heavy door of the SUV was thrown open, and Ace was flung inside, landing hard on the floor between the seats. The door slammed shut with a definitive thud, plunging him into near-total darkness. A moment later, he felt the heavy thump of other bodies being thrown in beside him—Evelyn, Silva, Kaito. A tangled heap of captured hope. They were all here. They had failed utterly.

The engine roared, and the vehicle accelerated with a lurch, throwing them against each other in the dark. They were captured. They were property now. They were in the hands of the wolf they had enraged beyond all reason, and the wolf was taking them back to its lair.

Ace let his head fall back against the cold metal floor, closing his stinging eyes. The taste of tear gas and bitter defeat filled his mouth. They had stolen the king's treasure, but the king himself was still very much alive, his power now focused solely on them. The great roar of their rebellion had ended not with an explosion, but with the simple, heavy sound of a car door locking. That sound was the final word. The war was over. They had lost.

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