Chapter 718

When his cheek slammed into the dirt, gritty sand mixed with the taste of blood flooding his nose and mouth, Little Scar’s pupils shrank tight. The first thought that slashed across his mind was razor-sharp—this was a trap.

The man who came wasn’t an ally. Either the contact had already betrayed them, or the enemy had fished the dead man’s comm logs to lure him out.

Just as his muscles tensed for a desperate counterattack, Ahrmann’s bark split the air like a gunshot: