The field truck rumbled slowly over the rocky path cutting through the pine forest. It wasn’t a camo-painted military vehicle, but a battered, gray cargo hauler with no insignia, no ID number. Just a civilian relic, retrofitted to survive terrain no sane person would ever drive through.
Its engine growled, echoing between the trees. The headlights were dimmed with yellow filters to avoid drawing attention from the air. Mud and dust clung to the hood like a second skin.
Killian sat in the middle seat of the rear cabin, gripping the steel handle with his left hand while his right tapped through a digital map on his tablet. Beside him, Vischa leaned against the metal wall, her head resting near a mesh-covered slit in the panel, eyes scanning the darkness outside. Up front, Andrew rode shotg
