PREVIEW

... bay of the Sentinel BioTech facility just after dawn. Their license plates were unmarked, save for a small emblem on each front bumper—Fort Hanley’s crest.

Inside, the air was tense.

Angel stood near the logistics desk, a clipboard in hand. She was already dressed in a clean navy blazer and black slacks, looking more like a senior diplomat than a project manager.

Matthew entered a minute later, sleeves rolled up, phone to his ear.

"No, they’re not authorized to p ...

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