The mansion was quieter than it had been in days, the echoes of battle still lingering like a ghost. Outside, the frozen wasteland stretched endlessly, the sharp winds howling through cracks in the earth. The Vanguard was gone, for now, but Daniel couldn't shake the unease settling in his chest.
Sitting in the control room, his androgynously beautiful features were illuminated by the glow of the monitors. His fingers moved swiftly over the keyboard, scanning through surveillance footage and diagnostics. The traps had done their job, but the damage to the mansion was undeniable. Reinforcing the defenses would take time—and time was a luxury he wasn't sure they had anymore.
Claire appeared in the doorway, her arms crossed. Even now, bruises blooming faintly along her jawline and knuckles, she carried herself with an unyielding strength. She'd fought like a storm, and Daniel's chest tightened at the memory of her standing against waves of Forsaken with unrelenting ferocity.
