Luke’s mission had failed.
Word came back in fractured reports, carried by men who looked more ashamed than battle-hardened. The plan had been sharp, coordinated, and full of promise. They had tracked Valcov, cornered him in what they thought was a secure meet-up spot, but the man had slipped through like smoke. Worse, some of Luke’s best men didn’t come back. Those who survived had grim faces, and one of them even told Amara in hushed tones that it was as if Valcov had expected the assault from the very beginning.
Luke himself was furious. He had stormed out of the field headquarters, his anger burning like fire, slamming doors, and demanding silence from his men. Amara only caught glimpses of him after he returned to the estate, sharp gestures, clenched fists, the occasional muffled ye
