The scarred man's chilling voice still hung in the air, a quiet echo swallowed by the cold.
Daniel's eyes stayed fixed on the screen, his androgynously beautiful face set in a mask of cold calculation. The words rattled in his mind, but he didn't let them show. "We'll be back. And next time, we won't just take your defenses—we'll take you."
Outside, Claire stood tall among the carnage, her breathing steady despite the aches radiating through her bruised body. Blood, both hers and the enemy's, stained her knuckles. She glanced up toward one of the surveillance cameras, her piercing eyes locking with Daniel's through the lens. It was a brief exchange, but it spoke volumes. He nodded slightly. She understood.
The scarred man moved with calculated ease, his retreat slow, deliberate. His soldiers fell back around him, the mechanical Forsaken following like obedient hounds. The Vanguard wasn't finished, not by a long shot.
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