CHAPTER FORTY-ONE The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly from cold to lethal. Trigger walked back inside the room and sat on the bed. She stayed perched on the edge of the cot, her thumb tracing the seam of the data tablet, looking for all the words like she was bored. “Get out,” Collin repeated, “The Black Vultures have enough scavengers. We don’t need a stray dog who thinks she can bite the hand that feeds her. Disappear tonight, and I might forget I saw you tampering with the terminal.” Trigger tilted her head, a stray lock of dark hair falling over her eyes. “I’m unfazed by threats from men who have to knock to feel powerful, Collin. You’re talking about me leaving? I just got comfortable.” Collin let out a harsh, mocking bark of a laugh. He took two heavy steps into the room, crowding her space. “You think because you caught Rex’s eye, you’re safe? You’re a dime-a-dozen honey trap. You use your face to get through the door and your body to stay in the room. It’s cheap

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE The armored transport ground to a halt, its heavy treads churning the frozen earth into fine, white powder. Trigger stepped out, the -132°C wind whipping her dark hair like a lash. She adjusted her goggles, and the digital display flickered. Behind her, the twenty “desperate” scavengers Collin had promised spilled out of the secondary vehicles. They were a pathetic sight—wrapped in layers of mismatched fur and plastic, their eyes wild with a hunger that bordered on insanity. Charles, their self-appointed leader, stepped forward, his breath coming in ragged, steaming plumes. Trigger looked between the two structures. To the left stood a sprawling structure. It was massive, surrounded by a towering, featureless black fence. Aside from its sheer size and the oppressive height of its perimeter, it looked like a cold, dead warehouse. There was no warmth in its silhouette, no sign of life behind its dark, matte walls. She huffed and rolled her eyes. To the right,

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE—UNKNOWN—The air in the command hub was thick with the scent of expensive tobacco.A middle-aged man, dressed in a sharp, charcoal-grey suit that seemed out of place in the end times, reclined in a high-backed leather seat. He kicked his foot against the mahogany desk, twirling the chair in a slow, rhythmic circle. His eyes were fixed on the wall-sized array of monitors before him.He watched the replay of Trigger stepping out of the transport. He saw her eyes lock onto the lens, the subtle flash of her finger—the “one.”“Still playing both sides, girl,” he muttered, his voice a smooth, dangerous baritone.The screens shifted, displaying the carnage at the Vaughn Residence. He watched with coldness as Edgar transformed from a shivering child into a blur of hyper-violent motion. He watched the eye pop, the throat-crushing, the sickening moment of the forced feeding.The man’s expression didn't flicker with horror. It darkened with a simmering, righteous anger. He di

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVENRuby’s world finally stilled.The pool of crimson spreading beneath her steamed in the frigid air of the bay. Her eyes, glassy and fixed, reflected nothing but the dark mouth of the ventilation shaft.The heavy thud of combat boots shattered the silence.“Over here! I heard a scream!”A squad of Vulture goons burst into the loading bay, rifles raised, their breath coming in ragged plumes. They skidded to a halt around the body.“It’s the thief,” one hissed, kicking Ruby’s limp hand. “The little shadow.”“Who cares about the girl? Where’s the Seal?!”They descended on her like actual vultures, tearing at her tactical vest and ripping open pockets. They flipped her cooling body over with zero ceremony, searching for the metallic cylinder that held their lives in the balance.“It’s gone,” the lead guard whispered, his face turning ashen. “The pedestal in the sanctum is empty, and it’s not on her. If that Seal is out there, our collars...”“Move!” a roar echoed from th

CHAPTER FORTY-NINEZane stepped out of the Fortress’s reinforced entrance just as the battered transport shuddered to a final halt inside the loading bay.The heavy doors had barely sealed when Trigger kicked the driver’s door open and half-fell, half-crawled onto the concrete.A low whimper escaped her throat, quickly sharpening into a guttural groan as the residual cold bit viciously into her shattered shoulder.Blood had frozen in a dark crust along her parka; now it began to thaw and seep again in the relative warmth through the torn fabric.Zane stood motionless, hands in the pockets of his black tactical jacket, watching her struggle. His face was carved from the same indifference as the ice outside.Trigger lifted her head, teeth clenched against the pain. “You just going to stand there… staring?” Her voice cracked. “Or are you going to help me, Zane Vaughn?”For several seconds he said nothing. The only sound was the ticking of the transport’s dying engine and the wet drip of