The river behind Nora roared like a localized hurricane, its black, swollen waters churning with raw tree limbs and jagged ice-melt. The rain was a deafening sheet of needles, washing the fresh crimson from her torn skin straight into the mud.
In front of her stood Silas Vance, his silver-plated revolver steady as a mountain, his golden eyes filled with the cold calculation of a butcher. To her left, the sleek black hull of the federal stealth submarine breached the surface completely, the river water cascading off its matte plating as its twin Gatling guns spun up with an ominous, mechanical scream that vibrated right through the marrow of her bones.
"Silas!" Ethan’s voice was a bloody rasp from inside the overturned transport. He was dragging his crushed torso through the shattered win
