Silence fell over the clearing like ash after a fire.
The kind of silence that comes not with peace, but with defeat.
We stood around the crate, eyes flicking between each other, the woods, the pulse monitor's slow, steady rhythm. No one moved for a while. Then Kol said what everyone else was thinking.
"We pretend we never saw what's inside."
Tiger grunted. "Boss wants it delivered. That's what we're paid to do."
Jai added, "Better it's not our problem. Not if we want to keep our families breathing."
Mick shifted his weight. "But—what if this thing—what if it does wake up?"
"We won't be the ones holding the leash," Kol muttered. "That's what matters."
My jaw tightened.
Nyx hissed in my skull. Cowards.
They weren't wrong. Not really.
None of us had the power to take on the full weight of the organization. Not Kol, with his cracked ribs and daughter in Sector 3. Not Mick, still too young and too scared to sleep alone. Not even Tiger, the closest thing this team had to muscle—and a man whose sister was currently recovering in one of the boss's own private hospitals.
But I wasn't like them.
And they weren't like me.
"I'm sealing it," Tiger said, already moving to close the lid.
"Wait," I said.
They all turned.
I kept my voice even. "We should reinforce it first. After that firefight, one of the sensors is glitching."
It was a lie. The crate was perfectly intact.
But they didn't question me.
While Tiger and Kol fetched spare seal-gel packs from the van, I crouched low, slid the small black disc from my coat, and pressed it to the inner curve of the cryo-panel.
Tracker.
Slim. Silent. Designed to ping only once every twelve hours to avoid detection.
A gift from one of my old contacts. I'd never used it—until now.
Let the monsters eat each other, Nyx said. But we'll know where the pieces fall.
The others returned. Together, we sealed the crate—smooth, efficient, like nothing had happened. Like we hadn't glimpsed the thing that could burn the world from the inside out.
Kol wiped his hands on his pants. "We get back on the road. No chatter. No transmissions. No logs."
Everyone nodded.
Except me.
I stared at the white crate as it hissed shut.
The heartbeat inside it didn't even flinch.
We made it five miles down the ridge before the woods caught fire.
Not literal flames—but the sound of trees snapping, boots pounding, branches scattering—an ambush incoming from both sides.
Tiger cursed and slammed on the brakes. "They followed us."
"No," I said. "They waited for us."
Weapons were drawn.
Mick fumbled his clip. Kol chambered a round. The van doors opened into the night, and cold air rushed in.
Shapes moved in the trees—shadows gliding through the dark. Masks. Armor. The same mercenaries from before.
But this time, they weren't herding us.
This time, they came to kill.
I stepped out into the dirt, blades drawn, heart racing.
Nyx was already at the surface. No more hiding.
Tiger raised his rifle. "We make a stand here."
I nodded once.
The first shots rang out like thunder—
And the final fight began.