Six hours.
One hundred and forty-four thousand seconds. That was all that stood between the Blackthorn Pack and the end of the world as we knew it.
The war room was a cacophony of shouting voices, blaring alarms, and the frantic clatter of keyboards. The holographic projection of the solar system in the center of the room had been replaced by a localized map of the Pacific Northwest, overlaid with thousands of angry, pulsing red dots.
"They aren't slowing down!" Morgan shouted over the din, her fingers flying across her console. "The vanguard shed their geometric shells. They’ve deployed a swarm of roughly four thousand kinetic drones. They’re entering the upper atmosphere in exactly five hours and forty-two minutes."
Lilith stood by the map, her face pale, her silver eyes tracking the
