The moon was too quiet that night. Even the wind seemed to hush its breath as it crept along the treetops above the rebel camp.
Aria didn't sleep. She lay awake in her tent, eyes fixed on the frayed ceiling, thoughts circling the same place they always did—Xander, the rebellion, and the creeping dread that something wasn't right.
Xander sat at the table outside, quietly sharpening his blade. Every scrape of metal over whetstone echoed louder than it should have.
Then came the urgent crunch of boots over dirt.
Rael barged through the tent flap, his face grim, a bloodied piece of fabric in his hand.
"We've been breached," he said.
Aria shot up, already strapping her boots. "Where?"
"South edge of the perimeter. They bypassed the scanners. Someone who knew where to step, what to avoid. This wasn't a guess."
Her heart plummeted. "Someone from inside."
Rael didn't answer, but his silence said it all.
The camp descended into alert mode. Orders shouted, units dispatched. Kell demanded a full sweep, beginning with the newest recruits.
But Aria's instincts screamed this wasn't random.
She followed her gut into the surveillance tent, scrolling through infrared feeds when the screen abruptly cut to black.
Then the ground shook.
An explosion tore through the command tent.
Screams.
Smoke.
Fire.
Aria stumbled outside, coughing, eyes scanning the chaos—and that's when she saw her.
A figure in the distance, sprinting toward the woods.
The hood fell for just a second.
Sari.
No. Not her.
But the ache in Aria's chest told her it was true.
Sari—her childhood friend. Her confidante. The one who held her when her brother died.
Gone.