MY CRUEL PROTECTOR
The white-washed walls of the house crumbled like dry biscuits, sending a cloud of chalky dust into the night air.
From the shadows of the olive trees, the "Erasers" emerged.
They weren't the disorganized remnants I had faced in Montenegro. These were the Elite, dressed in carbon-fiber stealth-rigs that absorbed the lavender light of my presence. They moved in total silence, their movements coordinated by a tactical sub-net that existed outside the grid I controlled.
"Julian, get behind me," I commanded, my hands igniting with a raw, electric violet energy.
I didn't have Nevan here to be my Shield. I didn't have the Iron Vanguard to hold the line. I was the Architect, alone in a field of tre