?Chapter 1577:


    Dominic straightened his uniform jacket and headed for the operations center. Since Maia had gone out of her way to warn him against reckless fire, he wouldn’t give the order to shoot first. Truthfully, he hadn’t nned a direct engagement anyway—not at this stage, not with so many unknowns. Besides, this was a good chance to extend a gesture of goodwill to his granddaughter.


    All he wanted, for now, was rity. How deep did this shadow organization run? What were their real intentions? Eradication could wait.


    Besides, the Wront incident had already made international waves. The brass back in Drakmire were furious. The directive was to eliminate the terrorist element, restore order, and give the world a clean headline. If Dominic acted, it would be surgical and sessful—no sloppy failures.


    He pushed through the double doors into themand center. “Ry my orders,” he boomed, his voice carrying like a gavel. “All units hold fire until my personalmand.” He paused, letting the silence settle, then added steel to his tone. “But if they fire first—or if any hostile intent is confirmed—neutralize with extreme prejudice.”


    Inside Siena’s car, Maia lowered the phone and met her eyes.


    “Confirmed. It’s military.” Maia’s voice was level. “Tell your people to pull back. Stay well clear of the tunnel zone.”


    “Understood,” Siena replied, her expression tight. “What’s our next move? Do we just wait here?”


    Maia’s grip on her phone tightened, the glow from the screen etching her sharp features in pale light.


    Wait? Waiting passively wasn’t an option. Now that the military had been alerted, the immediate problem was the unpredictable element on their own side—the lunatics.


    Drawing a steadying breath, Maia opened her contacts. Her thumb hovered briefly over a familiar name. Chris.


    Pride was a luxury she couldn’t afford right now. Whatever he thought of her, it didn’t matter. She pressed the call button.


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    The line connected after a single ring—almost as if Chris had been staring at the screen, waiting.


    His voice came through low and rough, edged with careful restraint. “Ms. Watson… About what happened on the rooftop earlier—I lost control. I shouldn’t have brought up that ridiculous settlement nonsense, and I definitely shouldn’t have—”


    Maia blinked, caught off guard. She hadn’t expected an apology to be the very first thing out of his mouth. The quiet remorse in his tone slipped past her defenses for a heartbeat, softening something inside her chest.


    But reason snapped back fast.


    “Mr. Cooper,” she cut in evenly, “let’s leave the past where it is. I need you to answer one question truthfully.”


    “Ask,” Chris replied, his tone shifting instantly to gravity.


    “Why were your people chasing that police car?”


    The line went still. Even through the speaker, Maia could sense the sudden tension on the other end—like the air itself had thickened.


    At that moment, deep inside The Mask’s hiddenmand center, Chris stood frozen, phone pressed to his ear, eyes flicking toward the wall of monitors. The center screen showed grainy thermal and night-vision feeds from inside the tunnel. His mind raced. How could she possibly know?


    Before he could form a reply, Maia’s voice cut through his thoughts, sharp and knowing.


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