The storm clouds hung low over the sea, a churning mass of darkness streaked with flashes of white lightning. The air was thick with the taste of salt and metal, the scent of war. On the distant horizon, the jagged silhouette of the island fortress grew larger with every passing second.
Damien stood at the bow of the boat, the wind tearing through his hair, his expression carved from stone. Every inch of his body hummed with restrained fury. The only thought that anchored him was Sera. She was there, his daughter, trapped in the hands of Valcov and the woman who's unknown to him.
Behind him, Gavin was giving instructions to the strike team through the comms. The engines hummed low, their sound nearly lost beneath the roar of the storm.
“Five minutes out,” Gavin called. “South side dock,
