After leaving Irina, Astron moved like a phantom, his figure weaving through the smoke and shadows of the collapsing museum with practiced ease. The faint pulse of the suppression knots still active glimmered in his mind's eye, their locations etched into his memory. Each second counted—not only to dismantle the remaining two suppressors but to ensure Irina's safety.
He'd seen the spark of telekinetic force in her during their spars, subtle but potent. It was enough to give him confidence that she could hold her own, at least temporarily. Still, the five elite operatives, especially their leader, were no ordinary opponents. Irina wasn't ready to face them alone—not without her fire.
'Keep them off her. Buy her time.'
That is why, he had already formulated a plan.
'Indeed.'
