Stan put the bike into gear and started rolling it down the hill.

"You owe me a drink after this."

Maya smiled but didn’t say a word.

Then, they moved, the sand was cold beneath their boots. Stan ripped the cover off a flyboard while Maya’s gloved fingers connected the hard drive in her suitcase to a slim transmitter mounted in the waterproof carry-strap across her chest.

"The moment I get elevation and line-of-sight to the relay tower on the bridge, it sends. Everything. Every file. Every name."

"And if we miss the bridge?"

"We won’t miss the bridge."

"But if..."

"Stan, we can do it..."

Behind them, the roar of Zack’s convoy crested the hill. Headlights flooded the beach in white, pinning their long shadows across the sand.

"END OF THE LINE," A loud voice boomed from the ridge through a megaphone, cracking with feedback.

Stan looked up at him. Then at the dark water curling against the sand.

"Ladies first."

Maya grinned behind her mask. And ran. They hit the water together.

One board. One stance. Stan’s feet planted wide and steady as the jets ignited beneath them, blasting the ocean into a roaring white column of foam and fury. His left arm locked around Maya’s waist, firm, unapologetic, like it had always belonged there.

Her hand slid to his shoulder and gripped hard.

The fly board surged.

Then it elevated...

Ten feet. Twenty. Forty. The sea dropped away like a curtain falling, the coast unfolding beneath them in sweeping arcs of amber, gold, and glittering white. City lights bled across the water’s dark mirror, fractured by wind into liquid streaks of color.

Wind whipped Maya’s hair across her mask, tugged at her jacket, stung her skin. She didn’t look down.

She looked at him. Stan met her gaze.

Their faces were inches apart, close enough that the narrow platform beneath their feet felt irrelevant. The city roared below. The glowing bridge loomed ahead like a dare. The whole world was noise and motion and danger.

But between them, everything went still.

Her breath brushed his lips, warm and unsteady.

His jaw flexed, a muscle ticking beneath the tension. His eyes dropped to her mouth for half a heartbeat, then dragged back up, darker now. Hungrier.

Neither moved. Neither pulled away.

For three full seconds, suspended forty feet above the ocean on a stolen flyboard with evidence that could topple a government, they just looked at each other.

The flyboard hummed and the wind howled. But still, neither of them looked away. Then the bridge surged toward them with the same speed as their elevation towards it.

"Hold on." His voice was barely louder than the wind.

Stan’s arm tightened around her waist, pulling her flush against him.

Maya didn’t resist.

Far below, Zack’s men scattered across the shoreline, shouting into radios, their movements frantic and pointless as they tried to keep up. They all looked shock by the recklessness of the two people they were pursuing.

Meanwhile, Maya glanced down at the transmitter clipped against her chest. The signal bar pulsed steadily upward, inching toward the green threshold.

Almost there.

Ahead, the bridge loomed larger by the second, a massive lattice of glass and steel suspended forty feet above the sea, its pedestrian walkway glowing amber from beneath. Their flyboards screamed higher, turbines straining as the stream of water beneath them thinned into vaporous mist.

"On my mark, cut thrust and pitch forward..."

"I know how to..."

"Jump Now!"

They moved instantly. They jumped as the thrust of the flyboard died. The boards dropped.

The bridge deck rocketed up to meet them...

CRACK!

They slammed onto the glass-paneled walkway and skidded hard across the surface.

Stan twisted mid-impact, taking the worst of it across his shoulder before rolling through the momentum and surging back to his feet almost immediately.

Maya landed cleaner. She slid several feet, caught the railing with one hand, and vaulted herself upright in one smooth motion.

Both were standing unscathed...

Behind them stretched a perfect view: the ocean, the beach, Zack’s men reduced to tiny ant-figures of frustration on the sand below.

Maya’s transmitter pinged.

She looked at her phone.

[UPLOAD COMPLETE. 847 FILES TRANSMITTED.]

She looked up. Her breath came out in one long shudder.

"It’s done."

But the night wasn’t done with them.

WHUP-WHUP-WHUP!

The sound of helicopter rotors filled the air, that distinctive thudding chop that meant something big was coming fast. From around the bridge’s east tower, a helicopter swept into view. No markings. Black against the darker sky.

Zack’s last card.

It hovered level with the bridge walkway, rotors whipping the air into a hurricane. The side door slid open.

Zack stepped out onto the landing skid.

Gun raised. Suit somehow still tidy. Fury in every line of his face.

"You think sending a file means anything?" His voice carried over the rotor wash. He stepped from the skid onto the bridge railing itself, balancing there, predatory, perfectly poised. "The Senator has judges. He has media. He has everyone. You’re two people with a bike and a hard drive, I don’t know which organisation is backing you two but it’s useless..."

Stan and Maya stood still.

"Hand me the drive. I’ll make this simple. How much do you want to give it back, A million dollars? Five million? Ten?"

Maya smirked but didn’t move. She just held up her phone. Turned the screen to face him.

Zack squinted across the wind.

The upload confirmation glowed there. And below it, already loading, a live news ticker scrolled in red:

[BREAKING: ANONYMOUS LEAK IMPLICATES SENATOR HOLT IN CLASSIFIED DATA CORRUPTION. FULL FILES PUBLIC.]

Something broke behind Zack’s eyes.

"No..."

"We didn’t just send it to one place, Zack." Maya lowered the phone slowly. Her voice was steady and calm.

"We sent it everywhere."

A beat of absolute silence, and then Stan’s hand moved. One sharp throw. A final smoke canister arced through the air and disappeared directly into the chopper’s open door.