Winter's boots echoed softly as he walked through the dimly lit halls of the base, the quiet hum of the place settling around him like a constant low buzz. The flickering of the overhead lights seemed to match his thoughts—flickering, uncertain.
The meeting with the group had brought some relief. It always helped to speak the truth, to have people who understood the danger they were all facing, but there was an undercurrent of worry gnawing at him, tightening in his chest with every step.
The truth had been laid bare: Harker was alive, and he was embedded in the very fabric of this place. Not just a ghost from their past, but a malignant force, manipulating the infected and their powers in ways that were becoming more and more dangerous by the second.
Harker's return isn't just a personal vendetta. It's a threat to everything we've built here
The threat he posed wasn't just to him—it was to them all. The team. Zara. Leo. The world, maybe.
