The storm's fury had been building all night, crashing waves against the offshore platform like battering rams. Lightning cleaved the sky above the disguised weather station as Camila, Julian, Dr. Whitaker, and two federal agents boarded the steel-clad structure via a rigid-hull boat. Salt spray plastered Camila's hair to her forehead as she stepped onto the grated deck, adrenaline sharpening her focus.
Agent Morales, protocol lead, barked orders through clenched teeth. “Stay low and keep to the shadow side. Our intel says Adrian installed automated defenses—watch for infrared tripwires and security turrets."
Camila gripped Lucas's hand; he'd insisted on coming despite his young age, feeling “part of the family team." He wore a waterproof parka over his pajamas, Bear snug in his pocket.
