Jack sat on the edge of the rusted cot in their temporary hideout, Sarah pacing silently nearby. The flicker of a broken neon sign outside their shattered window cast jagged shadows across the room. His hand trembled slightly as he looked at the faint glow beneath his skin.
The Dragon’s Mark pulsed. Slower now.
Jack’s voice was low. “He didn’t chase us.”
Sarah stopped pacing. “He didn’t need to.”
A low hum buzzed from the wall console. Jack reached for it, hitting a few buttons on the dusty panel. A single line appeared on the screen.
Transmission request accepted.
Source: Wilson Biomedical Research Center
Jack stiffened. “He’s reaching out.”
A second later, George’s face flickered onto the screen—calm, collected, as though nothing had happened hours ago. His voice was smooth, soak
