The engine’s roar wasn't just a sound; it was a physical force, a promise of violence that shook the very concrete beneath my knees. It ripped through the chemical plant’s oppressive silence, a furious, rising scream of metal and combustion.
Camilla froze, her finger still tightening on the trigger. The smug certainty on her face fractured, replaced by a flicker of confusion, then alarm. The mercenaries flanking her exchanged nervous glances, their professional composure evaporating in the face of this raw, unexpected onslaught.
The roar became deafening. It wasn't approaching on the road; it was already inside the perimeter.
Then, the west wall of Building C ceased to exist.
It wasn’t an explosion. It was an implosion, a cataclysmic failure of steel and concrete as a monstrous, armore
