Roman's voice lingered over the operations room like the final note of a funeral bell.
"We're not racing against a clock anymore."
His eyes swept across the room before settling on Allison.
"We're racing against history."
No one answered.
No one could.
The only sound was the relentless ticking of the countdown displayed across every monitor.
46:02:18
46:02:17
46:02:16
Each second echoed through the room with cruel precision, reminding everyone that somewhere beyond the storm, beyond the mountains, beyond everything they thought they knew…
Susanna Croft was waiting.
Or surviving.
Everyone prayed it was both.
The atmosphere had changed since Clara's rescue.
Hours earlier, the room had been filled with shouted commands, tactical updates, and the adrenaline of a hostage rescue.
Now it felt like a courtroom waiting for a verdict.
Coffee cups sat forgotten beside glowing laptops.
Satellite imagery covered one wall.
