The convoy didn't look like an army.
That was the point.
No tanks. No smoke. No sirens blaring through the streets. Just black vehicles moving in clean lines, headlights dimmed, windows tinted. The kind of quiet force that didn't need to shout because it assumed you would step aside.
Aria stood at the front gate with Marcus on her left and Kai on her right. The cold night air smelled like metal and rain that hadn't fallen yet. Searchlights swept over the trees, and each time they passed, the moonlight bent—subtle, quick, like the world flinched from being watched.
Kai's hand brushed her wrist. A warning. A promise.
"Say the word," he murmured, voice low. "And we break the line."
Aria didn't look at him. If she did, she might not go.
"I'm not giving him a war," she said.
Kai's jaw tightened. "He's already giving you one."
