The silence after Kael’s retreat was heavier than the chaos that had preceded it. The Resistance base lay in ruins, strewn with shattered glass, twisted metal, and the bodies of those who hadn’t survived the attack. Ayla stood at the heart of it, her trembling hands still gripping the plasma blade she had stolen from a fallen drone. Her breathing was shallow, her pulse thundering in her ears as she locked eyes with Ravyn-9.
“You let him go,” she said, her voice sharp with accusation.
Ravyn’s glowing eyes dimmed slightly, a gesture she had come to interpret as unease. “It was a tactical decision.”
“Tactical?” Ayla hissed, stepping closer. “He almost wiped us out, Ravyn! We had him—”
“No,” Ravyn interrupted, his tone colder now. “We didn’t. If I had engaged, none of us would be standing here. You think this is over? This is only the beginning.”