The cabin held its breath.
Three days had passed since the team had fled to the mountains, and the snow had fallen without cease, burying the world in a silence so deep it felt like the earth itself was sleeping. The fire in the hearth had burned down to embers, casting a faint orange glow across the rough-hewn walls. The freed subjects slept in the corners, their bodies still weak, their minds still raw. The others moved quietly, their voices low, their footsteps soft. It was a fragile peace, and no one wanted to break it.
But the war had not forgotten them.
It was Troy who noticed the signal first. He had been sitting by the window, his tablet dark, his dark eyes fixed on the snow. Then, without a word, he stood and walked to the table where Caleb was cleaning his knife by the light o
