"The ," Jax muttered. "Everything they stole from us. The master keys to the city’s power grid, the encrypted black sites, and every offshore account tied to the Council."

The rain wasn't just falling; it was melting the neon signs of the Lower Sector into puddles of electric blue and toxic pink. Jax sat in the corner of The Rusty Jack , his cybernetic eye whirring as it tried to filter out the smoke.

On the table sat a battered data-shard. He’d spent three months in the digital trenches of the Corporate Core to get it.

"Is that it?" Lyra whispered, sliding into the booth. She didn't look at the shard; she looked at the door.

"The Enforcers are two blocks out," Lyra said, her hand resting on the hilt of her pulse-blade. "If that file doesn't unpack in sixty seconds, we’re just two more ghosts in the machine."

He tapped a command on his wrist comm. A progress bar appeared in his vision, glowing gold against the grime of the bar.