The Alpha's Regret: His Secret Hybrid Heir
Commander Vane didn't say anything theatrical.
He looked at Xander across thirty feet of smoke-choked ravine, assessed him the way a man assessed a problem he'd solved before, and gave a single hand signal. His ten operatives moved at once — hardwired thermal blades drawn, the static-resistant gear that meant frequency masking wasn't going to save Xander twice.
"Mask's gone," Xander said, mostly to himself, and dropped the modulation entirely.
He let the full-expression frequency run loud instead. Not hiding anymore — announcing. The roar of it hit the limestone walls and came back distorted, and he felt it land in his own inner ear too, which was the cost of using it this close and this raw
Bab Populer