A thin mist from the lingering rain blanketed the New Jersey interstate highway. The roar of V8 engines from five armored black Chevrolets pierced the silence of the wet asphalt at sixty miles per hour. Inside the cabin of the third car, the core vehicle of the convoy, the air felt heavy and cold. The smell of fresh leather seats mixed with the scent of gun solvent and cold sweat.Nathan Cross sat rigidly in the front passenger seat. His sharp steel-gray eyes never stopped moving. He scanned the side mirrors, the distant overpass, and every civilian vehicle they passed. A level-four tactical Kevlar vest hugged his broad chest. It pressed against the Sig Sauer MCX assault rifle resting on his lap with the muzzle pointed at the floor. As a former private military contractor who had spent seven years in the dirtiest warzones of the Middle East and Africa, Nathan's instincts screamed that something was wrong. It was too quiet.In the backseat, Cleo hugged an antique silver metal briefcas

CRASH!The ground floor steel door shook violently under the blow of a hydraulic sledgehammer. The sound of bending hinges was followed by the marching footsteps of dozens of military combat boots stomping the wet concrete floor. The noise echoed across the vast, abandoned textile factory space, blending with the hiss of steam from leaking rusted pipes."They're inside!" Nathan hissed. He ripped the tactical radio off his shoulder and tossed it to the floor. The device was useless. Their signal had been cut from the source. "Move upstairs! We're holding out on the rooftop!"Nathan pushed Cleo's back, forcing the woman to step faster up the rusted iron spiral staircase leading to the upper floor. Adam trailed right behind him. The man's breathing was rough and ragged. Yet, his wild eyes kept darting toward the silver briefcase that Nathan was now carrying in his left hand.RAT-TAT-TAT!A barrage of 7.62mm bullets barked from the ground floor. Hot projectiles struck the stair landing. T

Thick blood flowed from Nathan's right knee. It soaked the concrete roof pounded by heavy rain. The metallic smell of blood mixed with the sulfurous scent of burnt gunpowder. The pain was like a glowing hot iron forcibly driven into his joint. It destroyed his patella bone and tore his tendon tissues all the way to his groin. Nathan's jaw clenched tight. His teeth ground together to hold back the scream that almost escaped his throat. He gasped for air, exhaling puffs of warm steam into the freezing storm wind.Nathan looked up slowly. His steel-gray eyes stared at the barrel of the Glock-17 pistol just six feet in front of him. Thin gray smoke still wafted from the black muzzle. It was slowly washed away by raindrops. Behind that pistol, Adam stood tall. The face of the partner who had shared trenches with him for seven years was now completely alien. There was no more casual laughter. There was no more comrade-in-arms panic. There was only a cold smirk and pupils dilated wildly by

Cough! Cough! Haaah!Nathan jolted awake, his back arching as he choked on a violent breath. His lungs burned, greedily dragging in air as if he had just been hauled from the depths of a suffocating ocean. The air scraping down his throat was neither the filtered chill of a modern skyscraper nor the cordite stench of New Jersey. It was cold, damp, and thick with the pungent stench of horse manure, rotting straw, and sodden earth.A blinding pain flared inside his skull. It was not the impact of Adam’s nine-millimeter hollow point tearing through his forehead, but thousands of fragmented, alien memories being hammered into his mind like white-hot iron spikes.Sparta. The Eurotas River Valley. The Hypomeion caste.Nathan forced open eyelids crusted with dried grime. His vision swam before gradually adjusting to the pale dawn light filtering through gaps in unmortared stone walls. Above him, the roof was nothing more than thatched reeds leaking rainwater onto the muddy floor.He looked

CREAAAK. SLAM!The cracked wooden door scraped shut and was secured with a rotting timber bar. Darkness swallowed the rickety hut, leaving only slivers of silver moonlight filtering through gaps in the stone walls and thatched roof. The night wind swept through the Eurotas Valley, carrying a bitter chill that seemed to seep straight into the bones.Jackson released the end of the hemp rope, letting it drop onto the muddy clay floor. His breathing came in ragged bursts, his chest heaving as pain gnawed at his completely empty stomach. The five-kilometer walk back from the city council hall, dragging three prisoners along with him, had drained the last reserves of his malnourished new body.In the corner, the three women sat on a pile of damp straw, their hands still bound tightly in front of them.PTOO!A bloody glob of spit landed barely two inches from Jackson's feet.Freya lifted her head, her expression feral. Her tangled copper-red hair hung across her forehead, revealing a pair o