Michael gave us further instructions. "Stay low, and move away from the windows."
The drone's buzz intensified—no longer distant but directly overhead. It cut through the storm's chaos.
"Thermal imaging?" Marcus whispered.
"Probably," Michael confirmed. "But the cabin's heat signature should make individual identification difficult."
Miles's voice emerged from the darkness. "They found us. How the hell did they find us so quickly?"
Michael had an answer. "I think they've been tracking us since before we arrived."
I inched toward the window, pulled by some primal need to face what hunted us.
Michael hissed at me. "Alex, stay down."
"I need to see it."
I raised myself slowly, just enough to pull the blind back and peer over the windowsill. Rain streaked the glass, distorting the world beyond. Lightning flashed again, and for a brief moment, I saw it—a dark mechanical shape hovering twenty feet above the clearing, with a red light blinking steadily beneath its body.
The drone dipped lower, executing a slow, deliberate circle around the cabin perimeter. The red light winked like a malevolent eye, recording, transmitting, judging.
I slid back down the wall, drawing my knees to my chest. "What do we do?"
Michael continued to assume his leadership role. "When the drone leaves, we move—storm or no storm."
The cabin fell silent except for our shallow breathing and the storm's continued assault. Minutes stretched like hours as the drone maintained its vigil, occasionally shifting position but never straying far.
Then, without warning, the buzzing began to recede. The mechanical intruder withdrew; its mission was complete.
"So what now?" Miles asked the darkness.
"Now we run." Michael rose to his feet. "Pack only what's essential. We leave in five minutes."
Outside, the storm continued its relentless assault as if nature raged against what human ingenuity had wrought. In fighting it, we had unleashed our own storm—a hurricane of information that could not be called back or contained.
I only hoped we would survive long enough to see it change the world.
Chapter twenty-one
Michael
Iheavedthefinalgearbag into the SUV's cargo area, my shoulders burning with the effort after our frantic packing. The canvas-wrapped bundle landed with a muffled thud against the other equipment we'd hastily assembled.
The rain continued to come down in sideways sheets that stung my exposed skin and soaked through my tactical jacket within seconds. Each droplet struck like a tiny needle, cold and persistent.
My nostrils were full of the raw, electric scent of ozone mingled with the heady perfume of saturated pine bark. Miles jogged the cabin's perimeter one final time, testing windows and door handles. His dark hair was already plastered to his forehead, rivulets running down his neck beneath his collar.
He pocketed the key and called over to us. "Won't hold much if someone really wants in." The worry lines around his mouth had deepened since finding out he was on the Project Asphodel kill list.
The cabin door banged open, and Alex emerged, clutching a waterproof case I'd brought from my apartment against his chest. He loaded our digital secrets inside. Rain immediately darkened his charcoal sweater to black at the shoulders while droplets gathered on his beard.
I moved toward him without conscious thought, intercepting him halfway to the vehicle. "I've got that." I reached for the case.
When my fingers closed over the hard plastic shell, they brushed against his. For three seconds, I forgot about the wind screaming through the trees and the very real possibility that predators were closing in. Alex was at the center of my thoughts—the man who brought me back to life.
He turned over the case. "Thank you."
Marcus shouted from the driver's seat. "Everyone in, now! We're too exposed here."
