Night had wrapped the Vlada camp in heavy silence. Most of the fires had burned low, leaving behind only soft orange embers. The people were tired—some still grieving the morning's deaths, others resting after fixing the broken parts of the camp. But in the shadows, danger had not passed. It was just beginning.
Nash walked through the darker edge of the camp, away from the tents and the resting guards. His steps were quiet, eyes darting around, checking if anyone followed. He passed by the storage tent, then the water barrels. No one was nearby.
He waited a moment longer before slipping behind one of the boulders near the hill. He pulled something from inside his coat—a small, dark round device with a red light at the center. He pressed a button and held it to his mouth.
“This is Nash.”
