Silas’s breathing had steadied into a shallow rhythm, the terrifying wet rattle silenced by Leo’s blood flowing in his veins. Color, ghostly but present, tinged his lips. He slept now, a drugged, exhausted oblivion, his remaining hand still loosely curled around Leo’s wrist where he’d collapsed onto a stool beside the makeshift operating table – the ranger station’s scarred wooden desk. Leo felt lightheaded, the room tilting slightly, but the connection – flesh, blood, and bone-deep terror – kept him anchored.Across the dim, dusty room, Reynolds hunched over Dominic’s laptop, the glow painting harsh lines on his face. Harlan paced like a caged wolf, his boots scuffing on the grimy floorboards. Mack stood sentinel at a boarded-up window, his bulk a reassuring shadow against the relentless drumming of rain on the roof.**“Project Phoenix,”** Reynolds muttered, fingers flying over the keys, decrypting layers of security. **“Not financial. Not political. At least, not directly.”** He pul
Last Updated : 2025-08-05 Read more