The city never slept. It just waited — for predators, for prey, for those who remembered how to survive. I walked through streets wet with rain and neon, boots slapping against cracked asphalt. The scar on my wrist had faded to a faint pulse, but the memory lingered — the nodes, the machine, Cassian’s ghost whispering in every wire.Rhea was beside me, quiet, vigilant. She had survived the worst the Order had thrown at her, and that alone made her a weapon. The pack wasn’t complete yet, scattered like shadows at dawn. But I could feel them, faintly, somewhere beneath the city, waiting for my signal, for the howl that would bring them back together.The streets smelled of rust and gasoline, the hum of the city threading through broken pipes and neon. Every step I took felt like stirring embers buried beneath concrete. I knew the Order wasn’t gone. Their leaders were dead, their nodes destroyed, but fragments remained — hidden agents, corrupted minds, people loyal to a ghost. And I need

The city’s veins were exposed tonight. Neon reflected off broken glass and wet asphalt, casting fractured shadows across streets that had forgotten what it meant to breathe. The pack moved like smoke beneath the glow, silent, coordinated, every movement precise and intentional.Rhea walked beside me, her hand brushing against mine now and then — a reminder that the hunt wasn’t just mine anymore. That instinct, survival, and trust could exist together.The final remnants of the Order were scattered, desperate, hiding in abandoned corporate towers, half-forgotten subway tunnels, and warehouses full of dust and decay. They had no idea we were coming.And that was our advantage.The tip came from a source we had rescued from the docks — a former operative loyal to Cassian, afraid of his own shadow. He spoke of a building on the far edge of the north district, glass towers reflecting neon into puddles like fractured stars. The building wasn’t just a hiding place. It was a command center, a

The city whispered tonight. Not in words, not in light, but in pulses beneath asphalt and steel — faint tremors, the hum of electricity, the scent of ozone and wet concrete. Neon flickered over puddles, fractured light painting streets with gold, gray, and shadow. Somewhere, someone moved, watching. Waiting.I walked alone, boots slick, coat heavy, scar on my wrist pulsing faintly. The pack followed at a distance, shadows among shadows, instincts alert, teeth bared. Rhea was beside me, silent, watching, steady — a reminder that trust could survive even in the ruins of betrayal, nodes, and fire.We were hunting the last fragments. The final operatives. The whispers that had survived beneath the city since the tower fell. And we were close.The tip came from an unlikely source: Helena. She had vanished months ago, swallowed by the city’s chaos, the Order’s remnants, and the nodes’ collapse. Yet now she appeared, a shadow herself, moving through the veins of the neon like a ghost with pu

Rain slicked streets glistened under fractured neon, the city trembling beneath its own pulse. Ethan Morrow and Tessa moved through the lower sectors like predators in the aftermath of a storm. The Gray Zone had spread further than anticipated, areas once under clear jurisdiction now flickering in unstable loops of light and shadow. Every window, every billboard, every flickering holo-sign seemed to whisper fragments of truth and lies — overlapping, colliding, echoing the chaos they had fought so hard to contain.“Listen,” Tessa whispered, voice taut with tension as she pointed to the signal map projected from her wrist console. Red zones were expanding faster than they’d predicted. Entire blocks were under the influence of residual Order interference. “If we don’t hit the Core nodes simultaneously, the city fractures completely. People trapped in the Gray Zone might never recover.”Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “Then we cut the heart out tonight. No more hesitation, no more half-measures. E

Rain had stopped, but the city still smelled of wet concrete and burnt ozone. Neon puddles stretched along cracked asphalt, refracting the fractured skyline like broken mirrors. Ethan Morrow and Tessa moved through alleys that were once arteries of control, now silent, abandoned. The collapse of the Order’s nodes above had left gaps—fractured remnants of a system that once commanded millions, now splintered and desperate.Tessa checked the wrist console, her fingers flying over the interface. “There are still pockets of activity,” she muttered. “Isolated squads, rogue AI fragments, unclaimed sectors. They’ve gone underground, but they’re reorganizing. Small, precise. Dangerous.”Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “Then we hunt them before they regroup. No mercy, no hesitation. The Gray Zone can’t fall back into shadow.”They moved in silence, boots splashing through puddles. Every corner was a potential ambush, every shadow a threat. In one alley, a squad of three operatives emerged from the dark