Logan’s Path: The Cost of Conviction

Logan’s breath snagged, his chest constricting as if squeezed by an invisible fist. A chill crept over him, numbing his limbs. “They’re leaving us,” he murmured, the words tasting of ash, barely audible over the fading engine roar. “How could they...” He jerked a hand toward the prisoners clustered behind him, their faces ghostly in the half-light, eyes wide with the same disbelief that churned in his gut.

Hadrif’s stare hardened, shadows carving his features into something feral. “What should we do now? More guards are coming!”

Before Logan could muster a reply, the floor shuddered beneath them. Vanguards and Specter cops flooded the factory grounds, their armored steps a rolling thunder, their barked orders slicing through the darkness like blades. Spotlights raked the scene, pinning them in harsh beams. The trap had snapped shut.

Hadrif’s hand clamped onto Logan’s arm, iron-tight. “Back inside—move!”