The wind cut through the battlefield like a blade, carrying with it the acrid scent of burning debris.
Snowflakes swirled in the air, mingling with the smoke and ash that lingered from the last round of explosions.
Emily's breath hitched as she stared across the desolate warzone, her pulse hammering in her ears.
Lena stood at the edge of the ruins, her posture unreadable, her face obscured by the dim light and shifting shadows but there was no mistaking the man beside her.
The enemy commander the man responsible for countless deaths. The man they had fought against for so long.
And Lena was standing with him.
Emily's hands tightened around her rifle, her knuckles turning white.
Her mind raced, trying to process what she was seeing.
It didn't make sense. It couldn't make sense.
Damien's voice crackled in her earpiece, low and urgent. "Emily. Orders?"
She barely heard him.