Kane sat in the chair where Earl had forced him down, wrists bound behind his back with heavy zip-ties, ankles secured to the chair legs. Blood from a shallow cut on his forehead had dried into a dark line that ran down to his cheekbone.Even like that—disarmed, restrained, surrounded—he managed to look composed.The command center smelled of ozone, gunpowder, and the copper tang of blood.Emergency lights still painted everything in intermittent red. Outside the reinforced windows the blizzard raged on, white and howling, erasing the bodies we had left in the snow.I stood three meters away with my rifle lowered but ready. My left shoulder throbbed in deep, rhythmic pulses where the round had torn through muscle. Nadia’s voice had already come over the net ordering me to get the wound packed, but I ignored it. Some things could not wait.Kane studied me the way a man studies a particularly interesting problem.“You know,” he said, voice calm and almost conversational, “I had a file o
Zuletzt aktualisiert : 2026-10-05 Mehr lesen