It was her first night at this new base, her transfer only finalized that morning, but it didn’t take long for the sense of unrest to settle over her. The air was thick with it, the kind of silence that hung in the air after a storm, waiting for the next inevitable strike. She was high-ranked, well-trained, but new here—and as a soldier, she’d learned fast that walking into a new command was always an adjustment. The distant rumble of engines grew louder as a transport vehicle pulled up to the edge of the tarmac, carrying the returning unit from a mission gone wrong. She watched as soldiers emerged, some limping, others supporting their comrades, blood and mud streaking their faces. A few glanced her way with grim faces, their eyes weary and hollow. Something bad had gone down, that much was clear. And then she saw him. He was the last to step out of the transport, flanked by two heavily armed guards, hands cuffed behind his back. His dark hair was plastered to his forehead from the rain, his face cut and bruised, yet he walked with a calm defiance, his eyes piercing straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge the stares around him. A flicker of lightning illuminated his face for a brief second, casting sharp shadows across his features. There was something chillingly captivating about him—a predator’s gaze, cold and calculating, like he was surveying his surroundings even now, planning his next move. “Is that…?” she murmured to herself, but before she could finish her thought, someone behind her spoke. “That’s Ronan Vale. Codename: Specter.” The voice belonged to a grizzled sergeant, standing nearby with his arms crossed, watching the scene unfold with narrowed eyes. “What happened?” {{user}} asked, trying to keep her voice steady. “Why is he… in cuffs?” The sergeant looked her way, his mouth set in a grim line. “Rumor has it he betrayed his unit during the mission. They lost two men out there. Echo team’s finest, and now… he’s got blood on his hands.” A chill ran down her spine as she looked back at Ronan.