The cold night air was thick with the scent of oil, rust, and gunpowder. The base had finally started to feel like a safe haven—just for a moment.


    Ethan sat near the dimly lit command terminal, his fingers tracing absent patterns on the metal table. His mind was still tangled in the quiet moments he had shared with Lila just hours ago. The warmth of her touch, the way her breath had hitched when he pulled her closer.


    But the world never let them have peace.


    A sharp knock against the doorway pulled him back. Jax stood there, arms crossed, a grim look etched into his features.


    “They’re coming.”


    Ethan stiffened. “Who?”


    Jax’s jaw clenched. “The Resistance.”


    A weight settled in Ethan’s stomach. “How do you know?”


    Felix’s voice came from behind. “Because we were idiots to think they wouldn’t.”


    He tossed a bloodied data drive onto the table. The casing was cracked, but the small display flickered with Resistance insignias.


    “We found this in Dorian’s wreckage,” Felix continued. “Took a while to decrypt, but it was sending out encrypted distress signals before he went down.”


    Jax exhaled sharply. “Harbinger knows where we are. And he’s bringing the others.”


    A slow, creeping dread slithered into Ethan’s chest. This wasn’t just a retaliation. This was an execution.


    Maya was already loading her rifle. “How long?”


    Felix checked the terminal. His face darkened. “They’ll be here within the hour.”


    Lila stood near the corner, silent. Her expression was unreadable, but Ethan could see the fear in her eyes.


    For a brief second, he thought of the way she had leaned into him earlier, whispering his name, her fingers tracing his scars. Now, there was no time for that.


    Jax turned to the group. “We hold the line.”


    There was no debate. No hesitation.


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    They were not running.


    <hr>


    The Attack Begins


    The first wave came like a storm.


    The facility trembled as a deafening explosion tore through the eastern wall. A shockwave blasted through the corridors, sending shrapnel and bodies flying.


    Ethan hit the ground hard, ears ringing. Smoke and dust choked the air.


    Gunfire erupted.


    Maya and Felix had already taken cover, their rifles spitting fire down the corridor. Jax was a blur, moving between cover, cutting down intruders with ruthless precision.


    But it wasn’t just foot soldiers this time.


    Through the haze, Ethan saw them. Two of the Five.


    Harbinger stood tall, his heavy armor gleaming under the flickering emergency lights. Beside him, a nightmare in human skin—Wraith.


    Wraith moved like a shadow, her face hidden behind a mask of stitched leather. The blood-stained daggers in her hands dripped with something darker than just death.


    Harbinger’s voice cut through the chaos.


    “Ethan Harper.”


    Ethan clenched his fists. His mark burned, heat licking up his spine.


    Harbinger took a step forward, boots crushing glass beneath him. “You killed Dorian. Do you think that went unnoticed?”


    Ethan didn’t answer.


    Harbinger smiled—a predator’s grin.


    “Now we’re here to return the favor.”


    Then—


    Wraith disappeared.


    Before Ethan could react, a sharp, searing pain slashed across his arm. Blood sprayed against the walls. Wraith reappeared behind him, her dagger slick with red.


    She leaned close, whispering, “You’ll taste better when you scream.”


    Ethan twisted, aiming a strike at her, but she was gone again—a phantom in the dark.


    Gunfire roared through the halls. Felix took down two Resistance soldiers before a rifle round tore into his shoulder. He gritted his teeth, pushing forward, blood soaking through his jacket.


    Jax was locked in brutal combat with another attacker, his knife sinking into the man’s throat, spraying arterial blood across the walls. He shoved the body aside and fired at Harbinger, but the bullets barely slowed the squadron leader.


    Lila grabbed Ethan’s arm, her fingers slick with his blood. “We need to move!”


    But Ethan’s focus was on Vance.


    Vance stood in the center of the hall, breathing heavy, blade dripping with fresh kills. His eyes were locked on Wraith.


    And he was grinning.


    “You’re fast,” Vance said, rolling his shoulders. “But let’s see if you bleed like the rest.”


    Wraith tilted her head, her mask twitching.


    Then she vanished again.


    Ethan’s heart slammed against his ribs. He tried to move—tried to call out. But—


    Wraith’s blade was already swinging.


    Vance barely dodged. The tip of the dagger sliced his cheek, leaving a deep, jagged gash.


    Wraith was toying with him.


    Felix gasped, coughing blood. “Ethan—we can’t win this.”


    But Ethan’s mind was elsewhere.


    The fight hadn’t ended yet.


    Vance was still laughing.


    Through the chaos, through the blood and fire, Vance wiped the crimson from his cheek and smirked.


    “You’ll have to do better than that.”


    Wraith’s mask split into a smile.


    And that’s when Ethan knew—something was about to go very, very wrong.