The black SUV loomed in the distance, its tinted windows giving nothing away. The night air hung thick, heavy with the scent of rain and the promise of something dangerous just around the corner. Ethan stood motionless, staring at the mysterious figure, his mind racing. Was this a trap? Was this their way out or the beginning of something even worse? Clara’s eyes flickered toward the vehicle, then back at Ethan. She was tense, every muscle in her body coiled and ready for whatever came next. She wasn’t stupid. She could tell this wasn’t a standard rescue operation. No one just offered a way out like this. There had to be a catch. But time was running out. The distant sound of sirens was growing louder, and the heavy footfalls of men closing in on their position made it clear they didn’t have much time to decide. “You’ll want to hurry,” the figure said, an edge of impatience creep

The van’s tires screeched as Clara swerved onto a dirt path masked by heavy shrubbery and fallen branches. Ethan gripped the gurney tightly, steadying the unconscious woman whose pulse fluttered beneath his fingers like a dying flame. The others—the rescued captives—sat in stunned silence, their haunted eyes flicking between the rear window and the team that had torn them from hell. “She’s crashing,” Clara barked. “Heart rate’s unstable. Lucien, I need that med bag now!” Lucien reached behind him, yanked the emergency pack from the wall compartment, and tossed it forward. Clara moved fast, ripping open vials, attaching electrodes, and administering a stimulant. Sweat beaded her brow as she worked, every second ticking like a death sentence. Ethan watched her, jaw clenched. “Can you stabilize her?” “Maybe,” Clara snapped. &l

The van rumbled through the dense forest, the tires carving a path through the dirt and underbrush. The night had finally released its grip on the world, but the air was still thick with the tension of what they had just endured. The explosion, the drones, Lucien’s blood staining Ethan’s shirt, and the sense that they were only at the beginning of a much larger, more dangerous game.Ethan, still clutching Lucien’s shoulder, felt the weight of the situation pressing in on him. They had the drive, but the cost had been high. Lucien was alive, but barely. Every breath he took seemed more labored than the last, and Ethan was painfully aware that the clock was ticking on getting him the medical attention he needed.Clara’s eyes were focused on the road, her hands gripped tightly on the wheel, knuckles white. The stress of the mission was etched into her features, but her focus was unwavering. The way she steered the van through the twists and turns of the forest road made it clear—she was

Ethan emerged from the shattered warehouse door into the crisp dawn air, his chest heaving from exertion and pain. Vick lay motionless on the cracked concrete, a harsh testament to the price of betrayal. Ethan spared the fallen enforcer no further glance—there was no time for reflection. With the third ghost drive secured in his jacket pocket, he sprinted to the parked motorcycle, climbed aboard, and roared off before the first distant siren could reach the underground labyrinth.Two hours later, Clara’s battered van pulled up outside the dilapidated safehouse cabin. Jason and Lyra were already there, Lyra pacing the small front yard with three unconscious captives slung over her shoulder,victims of the King’s trafficking rings, each rescued from a cell that would have become their tombs. Inside, Lucien lay on a makeshift cot, pale but breathing steadily now, bandages fresh, his strength slowly returning. Clara killed the engine and jump

The silence in the Arctic bunker was deafening. Not the kind that whispered peace—but the kind that screamed at the nerves, gnawed at the psyche, and dared you to move. Ethan stood motionless, eyes fixed on the humming core ahead. Cylindrical, cold, and alive with streaks of pulsing blue light, it resembled the beating heart of a monster too vast to fully comprehend. Behind him, Isobel clutched the disruptor module like it was the last bullet in a war that had already claimed too much. Ajay worked furiously on a cracked terminal panel, his fingers trembling slightly despite the thermal gloves. Kai was perched near the upper catwalk, sniper rifle trained on the only entrance—ready for the inevitable. “They know we’re here,” Ajay muttered. “The core pinged satellites the second we cracked open the firewall. We’ve got maybe six minutes before Requiem reroutes local defense drones or worse…”