He made a choice.
“It’s a crack,” Jinx whispered, her eyes gleaming. “For the perfect IPA.”
Kaelen twisted the cap. For a terrifying second, nothing happened. Then the beer bloomed . The aroma hit him first: pine needles, grapefruit rind, fresh bread. He took a sip.
The target was Hoppulence’s mythic, unreleased batch: Ambrosia No. 7 . It was brewed with pre-blight Cascade hops, Himalayan glacier water, and a yeast strain thought extinct. Only three bottles existed, locked in the vault of the Hoppulence SkyTower.
That’s when the alarms screamed.