4:56 a.m. — High Ridge, Just Beyond Site 09
Silence.
No alarms. No voices. No chaos.
Just the whisper of the wind combing through scorched grass and the low groan of the mountain shifting beneath its own weight.
Amara opened her eyes to a blood-orange sky. Her body ached, her breath shallow and erratic, but she was alive.
Barely.
The pendant was no longer around her neck. It had fused into her skin — a soft, silver glint just below her collarbone, pulsing faintly like a second heartbeat.
She turned her head and saw Damon, lying beside her in the grass, unconscious but breathing. His face was bruised. A shallow gash split his brow.
Relief swept through her, so sudden and sharp it hurt.
“Damon…”
Ash's voice came from nearby. “He took the brunt of the pressure wave pulling us out. W
