Chapter 656

The captain finally moved.

His motions were slow, like a mechanical leopard calculating the exact moment to strike. Four of his squad lay sprawled in their own blood, yet he didn’t spare them a single glance—just as he hadn’t when Reed cut down their tech. His pupils tracked only one thing: the calibration marks of the mission still to be completed.

A West Point prodigy. The last living piece on the White Noise Eagles’ board. His eyes dissected Reed like a specimen, parsing every tremor of muscle for patterns to exploit.