The halls of the ruined compound echoed with distant gunfire, a fading reminder of the battle that had raged just moments ago.
Smoke clung to the air, thick with the acrid scent of scorched metal and blood.
Emily pressed her back against a cracked concrete pillar, her pulse hammering in her ears as she gripped her weapon.
Victor Hale stood just a few feet away, blood streaking his temple, his coat torn from the chaos.
His forces were scattered, his plans unraveling by the second.
But Emily knew better than to assume he was finished.
She exhaled slowly, adjusting her stance, The last few hours had been a deadly game of deception.
One where she had pretended to be on Hale's side—long enough to survive, long enough to strike when the moment was right.
But now, the battlefield had shifted and something was wrong.
Hale turned toward her, his eyes unreadable. "You were never going to follow me, were you?"
Emily didn't answer. She didn't need to.
