The sun rose behind a shroud of mist the following morning, turning the horizon into pale bands of silver and gold. The estate’s courtyard was alive with movement, engines humming, voices low, the faint clatter of equipment being loaded into armored vehicles.
It was the first day of the official search.
Damien stood near the vehicles, reviewing the final logistics with Gavin and Calum. His expression was calm but sharp, eyes scanning each document and map like a hawk searching for weakness.
Every lead mattered. Every second counted.
“Zone Three has been cleared by our local contact,” Gavin reported, handing him a tablet. “But we’re still waiting for confirmation on Zone Four. Satellite scans suggest activity near the abandoned port, but it’s unverified.”
Damien nodded, eyes narrowing
