The rain had stopped by dawn, leaving the city draped in a gray stillness that felt unnatural, as if the world itself was holding its breath. The old train station smelled of rust and wet concrete. Adrian was sitting on a broken bench near the far wall, his gun resting on his thigh, his gaze distant and calculating.
I stood by the cracked window, watching the sun try to break through the clouds. The light barely reached us, and every shadow seemed to move with its own intent.
“They’re not going to stop,” I said quietly.
Adrian didn’t answer right away. He was scrolling through a small encrypted tablet, tracing a pattern on the screen. “I know,” he said finally. “But neither are we.”
I turned to him. “What’s the plan?”
He looked up, eyes sharp again, the soldier in him fully awake. “We
