The rest of the morning passed with tense planning sessions I wasn’t invited to join.
Kane and his men gathered around maps and laptops, their voices low and urgent as they discussed topics like “extraction points” and “safe corridors.” Every time I tried to get closer, conversations stopped, and meaningful glances were exchanged.
The message was clear: I wasn’t part of the inner circle. I was cargo to be protected, not an ally to be trusted.
The isolation was driving me crazy.
By afternoon, the storm raged as if the world itself was splitting open—rain pounded the roof, and wind howled like restless spirits outside. The power flickered twice, leaving us dependent on the fireplace and emergency lanterns that cast flickering shadows on the walls.
Kane had disappeared an hour ago—“perim
