The highway stretched north through the mountains, a grey ribbon winding through forests of pine and stone. The convoy of three vehicles moved steadily, their headlights cutting through the last of the morning mist. They had left the burning compound behind them hours ago, and with it, the bodies of the men who had tried to keep them caged. The world outside the windows was quiet and cold, the kind of quiet that came after a storm.
Caleb sat in the passenger seat of the lead van, his wounded side bandaged and throbbing, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. Nyla was driving, her hands steady on the wheel, her face pale with exhaustion. The others were scattered behind them—Vance and Deji in the second vehicle, Wren and Corvin in the third, the seven freed subjects huddled together in the back
