The military station was buzzing with activity, but there was an undercurrent of tension in the air. Winter stepped inside, his boots barely making a sound on the cold concrete floor. Soldiers were already gathered in the dimly lit war room, their shadows cast long against the walls as they stood around a large table cluttered with maps, notes, and hastily scrawled tactical plans. Overhead, the flickering lights did little to dispel the unease hanging over the room.
Evelyn stood at the head of the table, her sharp gaze scanning the assembled soldiers. Beside her, Bale had his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. The air smelled faintly of sweat and gun oil, a familiar mix, yet something about tonight felt… wrong.
Winter took his place at the back, near the edge of the group, his eyes instinctively moving over the faces around him. He wasn't the only one feeling it. The unease sat heavy in the room, pressing against his skin like an unseen force.
