The rain faltered in Selene’s ears. The storm still howled, fire still burned, but all sound bled into nothing. Her gaze fixed on the figure staggering from the wreckage, armor cracked and smoking, visor hanging in shards.Her brother. Alive.His chest was scorched where Fowler’s bullet had torn through, the wound blackened but not mortal. He stood upright, defiant, his rifle slung like a weapon resurrected from hell itself.Each step was steady, deliberate, fueled not by flesh but by will and hatred. Selene’s stomach twisted. “No… you should be dead.”His eyes locked on hers, burning with something primal. “I should have been. But Carters don’t die so easily. You’ll learn that, sister.”The word sister fell like venom. Fowler swayed, blood streaking down his side, his rifle still leveled though his knees trembled. He muttered through clenched teeth, “The bastard’s running on spite alone.”Victor’s lips curled faintly, a proud glimmer in his otherwise cold expression. “Good. You survi

The storm pressed against Selene’s skin like iron chains. Rain lashed her face, her wrists ached from torn cuffs, and her lungs refused to draw a full breath.She stood between them husband, brother while her father’s eyes bore into her, merciless and expectant. “Choose,” Victor repeated, his voice carrying through thunder like a judge delivering a sentence.Her heart thrashed against her ribs. She wanted to scream, to tell him no, to tear down the world before letting it come to this. But his soldiers stood around them, rifles trained, waiting. There was no escape. No delay.She turned, eyes falling on Fowler. He was swaying on his feet, blood soaking his side, his face pale. But his rifle was still raised, his stance still that of the General who had survived the impossible.His gaze found hers, steady despite the pain. He shook his head once, almost imperceptibly. Don’t choose me.Her throat tightened. She could read the truth in his eyes: he’d rather die than see her chained by Vi

The battlefield stilled. Gunfire crackled in the distance, but in the center of the storm, all sound bent toward one moment: the black pistol pressed against Selene’s temple.Her breath came in shudders, the icy touch of steel searing into her skin. Her heart slammed so violently it hurt. She could feel Raven’s grip on her wrist, unyielding, the strength of a predator holding prey.Across from her, Fowler swayed on his feet, pale from blood loss. His rifle was steady, but only by sheer force of will. His eyes locked on Raven, and behind the fury, there was fear for her.“Let her go,” he growled, voice thick with pain but edged with command.Raven smiled, but there was no warmth in it. Her eyes burned like coals in the rain. “Drop the rifle, General. You know the rules. One life for another. You’ve played this game before.”Selene’s heart seized. Rules. What rules?Fowler didn’t flinch. “This isn’t your fight.”“It’s always been my fight.” Raven’s voice dropped, soft but venomous. “You

The forest howled with fury. Gunfire split the trees, bullets sparking against bark, mud exploding underfoot. The storm overhead cracked like war drums, lightning painting the night in white fire.Selene hit the ground hard, dragged by the chain that bound her to Raven. Her ears rang from the eruption of rifles, her chest heaved against the weight of panic, but her eyes never left Fowler.He was a storm unto himself.Blood soaked his shirt, streaking down his ribs, but he moved like a predator refusing to die. Each step was a roar against the pain, each shot from his rifle a cry of defiance.Two of Raven’s operatives went down in seconds, their bodies twisting into the mud. “Selene!” Fowler’s voice tore through the chaos, raw and desperate.Her throat closed. She tried to rise, to reach him, but Raven’s grip yanked her back down. “Stay!” Raven barked, her pistol snapping up with lethal precision.A single shot cracked Fowler’s rifle jerked from his hands, spinning into the dirt. Selen

The thunder of two shots slammed through the forest, louder than the storm itself. For a moment, the world froze. No breath. No movement. Just the stench of gunpowder hanging heavy in the rain.Selene’s ears rang. Her chest heaved. Her vision swam with white streaks as she blinked against the lightning glare.Who fell?Her body screamed for her to move, but her legs refused. The chain linking her to Raven yanked tight, dragging her forward an inch and that was when she saw it.Fowler was still upright, barely, his rifle lowered, smoke curling from the barrel. His face was pale as bone, but his eyes burned with the same unyielding fire that had carried him through prison, through exile, through war.Raven stood opposite him, chest heaving, rain streaming down her scarred face. The dagger slipped from her hand into the mud. For a heartbeat, Selene thought Fowler’s shot had found her.Then Raven’s lips twisted into a bitter, triumphant smile. And Selene felt it. The heat. The sting.She