ZEUS
The SUV glides through the security checkpoint of the Haven, tinted windows, armored chassis, GPS disabled. The guard at the gate waves us through without a glance. Everything’s been pre-cleared. Everything about this night has been choreographed to feel like a victory.
In the back, Darian is slumped across the seat, wrists zip-tied, head tilted to one side. The tranq hasn’t worn off yet. There’s dried blood at his collar, fresh bruises on his jaw. He looks smaller like this, but heavier somehow. A weight I’ve been dragging for miles.
We pull up to the main building. Two soldiers move in as soon as we stop, opening the door, dragging Darian out like a package.
I straighten my jacket, smoothing invisible creases, rehearsing the look. Father’s men line the hall, silent, expectant.
