The heavy transport truck ground to a screeching halt in the middle of the compound. Its metal bumper was embedded deep in the twisted wire fence. Smoke poured from under the crumpled hood as the engine gave one final loud shudder and died. “Out of the truck, right now!” Asher yelled. He kicked his dented door open and vaulted onto the cold asphalt. “Kaelen, grab Michael!” Camila shouted. She dropped out of the passenger side with her rifle held tight against her shoulder. “We have guards moving on the right balcony!” Kaelen scooped Michael up from the footwell. He threw his coat over the boy’s head as bullets began to bite into the truck’s rear tailgate with sharp metal clinks. “Where are we breaking for?” Kaelen panted. He scrambled out into the open yard. “The lower armory door!” Asher shouted back. He pointed toward a thick steel portal beneath the main concrete overhang. “Move, move!” Three Syndicate soldiers burst out of a side barracks. They raised their sidearms as

Asher sprinted down the final stretch of tiled hallway. His boots made sharp slapping sounds against the floor. Camila ran shoulder to shoulder with him. Her rifle was locked against her chest. Kaelen held Michael close behind them. “On my count!” Asher barked. He raised his heavy revolver. “Three, two, one!” Asher threw his entire weight into the double wooden doors. He drove his shoulder straight into the center lock. The heavy frame shattered with a deafening crack. It splintered into flying wood chips as the doors burst inward. Inside the vast, dimly lit office, Director Miller spun away from a glass wall map. His hand dropped toward the open holster on his hip. “Do not touch that sidearm, Miller!” Camila roared. She raised her rifle and froze him in place. Miller stopped cold. His fingers hovered an inch above his gun grip. He slowly raised his hands. A tight, cold smile crept across his pale face as he looked at the four intruding figures. “So, you actually survive

The heavy silence inside the comms room shattered as heavy bootsteps thundered up the stairwell down the hall. Red alarm lights spun against the glass windows. They cast long crimson shadows across the server racks. “They are hitting the upper landing!” Camila called out. She pressed her back flat against the doorframe as she brought her rifle up. “Four men, maybe more!” “Kaelen, get Michael behind the main transmitter rack!” Asher ordered. He pointed his heavy revolver toward the open corridor. “What about Miller?” Kaelen asked. He shoved Michael into the narrow gap between two metal server towers. “He stays right where he is,” Asher said. He walked over to Director Miller and grabbed him by the collar of his uniform jacket. “Stand up.” Miller sneered, but he let Asher pull him out of the steel chair. “My men will not hesitate to shoot through me if it means stopping you, Asher.” “We will test that theory right now,” Asher said. He shoved Miller out into the center of t

The small off road vehicle sped along the narrow dirt highway, its headlights cutting through the heavy coastal fog that rolled off the cliffs. Below them to the right, the ocean crashed against jagged black rocks, while to the left, dense pine forests stretched up into the pitch black mountains. "Keep the speed steady, Camila," Asher said, leaning close to the side mirror to scan the empty road behind them. "If Miller had any scout units patrolling the perimeter, they will be heading for this coastal pass." "The road is clear for now," Camila replied, her hands gripping the wheel tight as the vehicle rounded a sharp curve. "How far until we hit the first border check?" "Ten miles," Asher said, reaching down to check the brass cartridges in his coat pocket. "The Syndicate maintains a small toll house where the highway meets the lower marshland." "Will they know about the regional compound falling?" Kaelen asked from the back seat, wrapping a dry wool coat around Michael's sh

The old trawler cut through the gray morning mist. Its diesel engine chugged in a steady, low thrum. Dense fog rested heavy on the black ocean water. It hid the coastline from view, but the smell of damp earth told Asher the land was getting closer. “The wind is shifting south,” Camila said. She leaned against the wooden railing on the upper deck. She kept her rifle rested over her arm, her eyes scanning the fog. “We have been on this water for four hours.” Asher walked up beside her. His coat collar was pulled tight against the freezing spray. “The captain says the southern bay is two miles out. We hit land before the sun breaks the clouds.” “What is at the southern bay?” Kaelen asked. He stepped out from the small steering cabin with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “Is it another Syndicate town?” “No,” Asher said. He turned to face him. “It is an open trading post called Iron Dock. No Director, no garrison, just smugglers, fishermen, and runaway labor.” “Sounds like ou