Theta-3 moved fast.

  The noise of Delta-Seven fell behind them—turret, shouting, the half-strangled grunts of people trying not to move their wounds too much.

  “Wasp, forward,” Jax said. “Vos, I want to know if the next corner sucks before it shoots at us.”

  “Already on it,” Vos said.

  The drone tag darted off ahead.

  WASP – ACTIVE

  AP: CPL VOS 5/8

  Kaden blinked. Vos hadn’t spent that much AP firing; Wasp’s upkeep was clearly chewing on his bar now. Every half-minute or so, a faint note ticked at the edge of the HUD.

  WASP SUSTAIN: -1 AP

  If Vos felt it, he didn’t complain. He just watched the minimized feed in his vision and walked.

  “First stretch clear,” Vos said. “No heat signatures, no movement. Looks like the sim designer got lazy for twenty meters.”

  “Good,” Jax said. “Let them be lazy. Tanaka, how’s the shield?”

  “Still in one piece,” Tanaka said. “Turret didn’t chew through. I’ve had worse.”

  Kaden glanced at the Bulwark. Bits of simulated ceiling mount and turret shroud still clung to the upper edge. You could tell the thing had earned its scars.

  They pushed on.

  The corridor narrowed slightly, ceiling coming down, walls closer. Wasp’s feed skimmed ahead. It indicated they were approaching a right bend then a wider space beyond.

  “Junction ahead,” Vos said. “Looks like a small staging bay. One big door on the far side; that’s probably your forward-control antechamber. Opp have set up a welcome committee.”

  “How many?” Jax asked.

  “Ground level, I’ve got four,” Vos said. “Two with rifles, one with something heavier, and one who keeps hugging the door frame like it’s their job. Balcony above the bay with… two more on overwatch. No turret. I’m seeing cover crates and a couple of waist-high barriers.”

  Wasp Sustain: -1 AP

  AP: CPL VOS 4/8

  “Any sign they’ve seen the drone?” Navarro asked.

  “One looked right at it,” Vos said. “Either they can’t see it, or they’re pretending they can’t. I’ll assume worst.”

  “Do that,” Jax said. “That big door is probably our way into forward control. We clear this bay, we get to knock.”

  Kaden’s HUD assigned a faint marker to the bulkhead Vos had tagged as likely forward control access. It was just another gray box, but the sim clearly cared about it.

  “Opp positioning?” Jax pressed.

  “Two rifles on ground are cross-covering the main approach,” Vos said. “Heavy is parked behind a crate at about eleven o’clock from the door—some kind of launcher or repeating support gun, hard to tell at this angle. Door hugger’s… weird.”

  “Weird how?” Navarro said.

  “They’re not peeking the corner like a normal idiot,” Vos said. “They’re just… pressed there. Pulse is steady. They’re waiting for something. Might be their version of a skill user.”

  “Copy,” Jax said. “What about the balcony?”

  “Two up high,” Vos said. “One left, one right. Good angles on the kill zone in the middle. This is a proper choke. If we just walk in, we get diced.”

  “Of course we do,” Jax said. “Okay. Tanaka, you’re anchor, not spear this time. We’re not sprinting into a shooting gallery until we break their sight picture.”

  Kaden glanced at Vos’s AP bar again. Four out of eight.

  “How long can you keep Wasp up?” Jax asked.

  “Like this?” Vos said. “Couple of minutes before I’m running on fumes. Less if you want Ghost Ping or Override again.”

  “Don’t burn yourself empty yet,” Jax said. “Keep Wasp for this room, then we leash it. Once we’re inside forward control, I’d rather have your AP than your toy.”

  “Understood,” Vos said.

  They reached the last bend before the bay.

  “Stack here,” Jax ordered. “This is what I want. Tanaka front, shield low for now. Navarro behind him, Mercer left, Vos right. On my mark, Tanaka, you bring the Bulwark up and draw their first volley. Navarro, Mercer, your first job is balcony suppression. Vos, you skate Wasp up and see if you can give me a target I care about.”

  “Copy,” Navarro said.

  “Got it,” Kaden said.

  “Wasp’s already in position,” Vos added. “Sitting up near the ceiling, out of the way. I can swing it down if I need a closer look.”

  “Don’t,” Jax said. “Not unless something changes. You’re paying for it every few seconds; make it count.”

  Kaden took his spot on Tanaka’s left, SMG up. His heartbeat was a little too fast; his hands weren’t shaking. Trauma Response helped in quiet ways.

  Jax rested one hand on Tanaka’s shoulder for a second.

  “On breach, I’m calling a mark,” she said. “When you see it, don’t argue with it. We kill the right thing first, no matter what it looks like.”

  “Yes, Sergeant,” Navarro said.

  “Roger,” Vos said.

  Wasp Sustain: -1 AP

  Jax flicked her fingers once. “Go.”

  Tanaka swung around the corner, Bulwark snapping up. Kaden followed, peeling out enough to clear his lane. Navarro mirrored him on the right. The bay opened up in front of them.

  It was exactly what Vos had said: a rectangular room, boxes and barriers scattered just irregularly enough to cause trouble, heavy double door set into the far wall with reinforced struts around it. Four Opp at ground level, two on the balcony. The heavy crouched behind a crate, something like a belt-fed weapon in its arms. The door hugger was pressed tight to the right side of the big hatch, half-hidden by the frame.

  The first volley came in hot.

  Rounds smashed into the Bulwark, scraping sparks off the shield face. Kaden stepped out just enough to throw fire at the balcony left while still stealing as much cover as he could from Tanaka.

  Jax’s tag pulsed.

  SKILL – Focus Fire (R1)

  AP: SSGT JAX 5/9

  A bright bracket snapped onto the Opp hugging the door. Every HUD in Theta-3 gave it the same priority glow—damage estimates, line-of-sight hints, tiny aim-assist corrections all nudged toward the mark.

  “That one dies first,” Jax said calmly. No shouting. Just conviction.

  The door hugger moved.

  One moment it was pressed to the frame; the next it blurred out into the open with a burst of speed that didn’t look right. Its edges smeared in Kaden’s vision for a half-second, like Aurora couldn’t quite keep up with the acceleration.

  It raised its weapon, aiming straight at Tanaka’s knee, not the shield.

  Kaden squeezed the trigger before he finished thinking about it. Navarro did the same. Vos added his own fire from the right.

  Focus Fire dug its hooks in. Kaden’s aim felt artificially clean, his sight dragged onto the marked target even as it lunged.

  Rounds hammered into the Opp mid-stride. It twisted, staggered. Something like a shimmer flared around it for a heartbeat—some personal barrier or reinforcement skill trying to shrug off the focus. It wasn’t enough. They burned through it. The focus mark blinked off as the target dropped.

  “Weird one down,” Navarro confirmed.

  The balcony answered, rounds cracking down from above. Kaden jerked back behind the shield, then leaned out again, forcing the upper silhouettes to duck. He tagged one with a burst as it tried to lean too far; it vanished from his HUD.

  “Balcony right is gone,” he said.

  “Left’s pinned,” Navarro said. “He’s not liking this.”

  Down on the floor, the heavy finally committed, swinging its gun around the edge of the crate and laying a vicious stream down the center. Tanaka grunted as the Bulwark shuddered under the assault, armor plating beginning to warp where the heavy impacts landed.

  “Tanaka, stay put,” Jax said. “Vos, can you nudge that thing?”

  “I can try,” Vos said. “Wasp’s got line of sight on its housing, it's definitely been modified. Give me a second, I'll try to mess with its electronics.”

  SKILL – Rapid Override (R1)

  AP: CPL VOS 2/8

  Kaden saw a faint blue shimmer around the heavy’s weapon. It hiccupped mid-stream, the roar choking down to an uneven stutter.

  “Gun’s coughing,” Vos said. “Didn’t kill it, but I made it mad.”

  “Mad is fine,” Jax said. “Mad is stupid. Mercer, give me three bursts on the heavy’s cover. Navarro, track the balcony left if he shows again.”

  “Copy,” Kaden said.

  He stepped out, fired three sharp bursts at the crate. Not to kill, just to keep the heavy’s head down. The Opp ducked back, then tried to adjust its position.

  Kaden never saw the one on the ground-level right until it nailed Navarro.

  A burst cut across from low cover, fragments of the round pattern slipping around the edge of the Bulwark. Navarro jerked as two rounds caught her—one scraping her chest plate, the other punching into her upper arm just below the shoulder pad.

  She stumbled backward, rifle clattering against her harness. Her HUD tag flashed.

  PFC NAVARRO – WOUNDED

  UPPER LIMB – PENETRATING TRAUMA

  BLEED RATE – MODERATE

  “Shit,” she hissed. “Arm’s dead. I’ve got nothing in this shoulder—”

  “Mercer!” Jax snapped. “Navarro, get down, keep your head behind metal.”

  Kaden slid back to her, trading his firing lane for her life without really thinking about it. He dropped behind cover, grabbed her plate harness, and dragged her flat.

  “I’ve got you,” he said. “Stay put.”

  Navarro’s left hand clenched and unclenched. Her right arm lay useless across her chest, blood darkening her sleeve and pooling in the crease of her armor joints. The sim didn’t give him smell, but it sold the warmth and the slickness well enough.

  Kaden’s HUD zoomed in.

  PFC NAVARRO – STATUS: STABLE – FUNCTIONAL IMPAIRMENT

  BLEED RATE – MODERATE → RISK: HIGH IF UNTREATED

  He didn’t have the luxury he’d had with Marquez and Kovacs. No safe pocket, no spare squad to hold the line. Tanaka’s shield still took most of the heat, but Kaden could hear rounds slapping into the cover around them.

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  “Field Stabilize,” he muttered.

  SKILL – Field Stabilize (R1)

  AP: PFC MERCER 2/5

  Everything narrowed: blood spurting pattern at the wound, the way Navarro’s breathing hitched, the constancy of her pulse. This wasn’t about searching for hidden arteries—it was about stopping a bad bleed and getting an arm functional enough to aim again without killing her.

  “Where’d it hit?” she asked through clenched teeth.

  “Upper arm,” Kaden said. “Good news, it didn’t take your shoulder off.”

  He cut her sleeve armor open, exposing simulated flesh beneath. The entry wound pulsed with each heartbeat, not arterial, but too heavy to ignore. He slapped a pressure patch on it, fingers digging to find the deeper track. Field Stabilize helped him read the flow: muscle shredded, but vessel mostly intact.

  “Can you feel your hand?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” Navarro said. “Pins and needles, but it’s there.”

  “Good,” Kaden said. “Grip.”

  He shoved a coagulant pad into the wound track, pressed hard, then wrapped a tight compression bandage around her upper arm, bracing it against the armor. The HUD watched the bleed rate.

  BLEED RATE – MODERATE → LOW

  STATUS – WOUNDED – FUNCTIONAL LIMITATIONS

  He pulled a painkiller injector from his kit and jammed it into the port at her bicep joint. The injector hissed, dumping its dose.

  “Stims?” she asked.

  “Not yet,” Kaden said. “You’re not shocky. You just hurt.”

  Navarro bit off a short laugh that sounded more like a snarl. “Feels like both.”

  “Give it ten seconds,” he said. “You’ll hate it less.”

  SKILL – Field Stabilize (R1) – ENDED

  Her vitals steadied a little. The bleeding slowed to nearly nothing. The HUD still marked her as wounded, but no longer in immediate danger.

  “Can you shoulder the rifle?” he asked.

  She flexed, grimaced. “Yeah. Not happy about it, but yeah.”

  “Then get back in the fight,” he said. “Just don’t try to deadlift Kenji.”

  She snorted once, short and sharp, and rolled back up into a crouch, bringing the rifle up one-handed and bracing the fore-end with her injured arm as best she could.

  Above them, Vos swore.

  “Wasp’s coming down,” he said. “AP’s getting low. I can keep it up for maybe one more minute, tops.”

  “Then make it count,” Jax said. “Find me a crack.”

  “Crack found,” Vos said. “Heavy’s shifting left to keep Tanaka in its arc. There’s a blind spot to its right if we can make it flinch.”

  “Copy,” Jax said. “Tanaka, three-second push left, then back. Make it think you’re about to do something stupid.”

  “Can do,” Tanaka said.

  He shoved the Bulwark left, exposing its opposite edge. The heavy swung to track him. Jax stepped out on the other side and put a burst into the gap Vos had called, chewing the corner of the crate.

  The heavy flinched—not much, but enough.

  Navarro’s rounds hit a beat later, upper left chest. Kaden added his own fire. The heavy stumbled back, then dropped. Its tag vanished.

  “Ground left is mine,” Navarro said, breath rough.

  “Balcony’s still got two,” Kaden said. “They’re not peeking.”

  “They will,” Jax said. “They don’t have a choice. Tanaka, how’s your AP?”

  “Three,” Tanaka said. “Anchor’s off. Bulwark Advance is still on cooldown.”

  “Vos?” Jax asked.

  “Wasp’s been charging me rent,” Vos said. “One AP left. If I keep it up, that’s my bar gone.”

  “Then you recall it,” Jax said. “We’re close enough we can see with our own eyes. Bring it home.”

  Vos sighed. “Fine. Wasp, back.”

  The little tag zipped back down the corridor, out of Kaden’s peripheral view. A moment later, his HUD noted:

  WASP – DOCKED

  “Last two on the balcony,” Jax said. “Mercer, Navarro, you keep them busy. Tanaka, you hold the middle. When they blink, we clear and we get to that door.”

  Kaden nodded, even though she couldn’t see it. His chest still felt tight from leaving Marquez and Kovacs behind. His hands, though, were steady again. Navarro was up. Tanaka was still a wall. Vos was grumpy but effective. Jax sounded like she understood exactly how to get them to that big door without throwing them away.

  For now, that was enough.

  He leaned out of cover, sighted up at the balcony, and went back to work.

  Gunfire in the bay had settled into something almost like a pattern.

  Two Opp still held the balcony, trading disciplined bursts and ducking back when Theta-3 returned fire. Down on the deck, the last rifleman on the right kept trying to angle shots around Tanaka’s Bulwark instead of into it.

  “Right-side rifle’s still hugging that crate,” Navarro said, breathing a little hard but steady. “Keeps trying to sneak under the shield.”

  “I’ve got his lane,” Kaden said.

  He leaned out, squeezed a short burst along the crate’s edge. The rifleman jerked back out of sight.

  “Good,” Jax said. “Make him work for every peek.”

  Tanaka adjusted his stance, Bulwark taking most of the abuse. His breathing over comms was heavier than it had been at the start, but still controlled.

  “We’re chewing ammo on three assholes,” Vos muttered. “You want me to throw Ghost Ping, see if I can make the balcony twitchy?”

  “Negative,” Jax said. “You’re down to scraps. Save your AP for something we actually need help with.”

  Vos clicked his tongue once.

  Kaden leaned again, sent a burst high at the balcony left. The Opp ducked; his rounds sparked off railing. Overwatch still hummed in the back of his HUD, smoothing his aim. His heart was pounding, but the fear was background noise, not center stage.

  Then Jax went still.

  Her helmet turned a few degrees toward the big double doors at the far end of the bay. Not much. Just enough that Kaden’s skin prickled.

  “Sergeant?” he asked.

  “Down,” Jax said.

  Kaden blinked. “What—”

  “Down, now!” she snapped, voice cutting across the comms like a whip.

  Training and the tone did the rest. Kaden dropped, grabbing Navarro’s harness and yanking her with him. Tanaka hunched, trying to lower the Bulwark without giving up his line.

  Vos was half a beat late.

  The command doors didn’t open. They blew.

  Both slabs tore off their mounts as if something had hit them from the inside with a starship. One hammered into the far wall and crumpled it inward. The other pinwheeled across the bay like a slicing coin and smashed straight into Vos.

  “Vos—!” Kaden managed.

  The door caught him across the shoulder and helmet and launched him into a stack of crates. He hit hard enough that the whole stack shuddered and shifted.

  His tag flared.

  CPL VOS – WOUNDED

  DIAGNOSIS: SEVERE CONCUSSION (SIM)

  STATUS: UNCONSCIOUS

  “Shit!” Navarro gasped. “Vos is—”

  “Stay down!” Jax barked.

  Kaden’s heart spiked. His hands went slick around his SMG. For a second his thoughts scattered—Vos is out, doors just flew like shrapnel, what the hell did that—

  A faint pressure settled at the back of his head. A HUD blink chimed in his peripheral.

  TRAIT – Anchor (SSGT JAX): IN EFFECT

  SQUAD STRESS RESISTANCE +

  The panic didn’t vanish, but it stopped swallowing his thoughts. He could feel his pulse hammering, could hear Navarro’s ragged breathing over comms, but the urge to bolt flattened into something like a cold knot instead.

  Something stepped through the mangled doorway.

  Kaden had seen Opp before. This was wrong even by those standards.

  It was taller than the grunts, broader across the shoulders, armor built like layered plate instead of smooth shells. No rifle. It carried a two-handed weapon—a monstrous polearm that couldn’t make up its mind between hammer and axe. The head was huge and unbalanced, its faces traced with faint, shifting lines of light that crawled over the metal like Aurora script gone feral. The frame around the doorway was bent outward and cratered where that thing had already struck.

  It walked like the room belonged to it.

  “Reaver!” Jax shouted. “That’s a Reaver! Heavy melee! Do not let it touch you!”

  Kaden’s stomach dropped. He’d seen Reavers in briefing vids, grainy footage of boarders getting pulped in narrow corridors. They’d always felt like cautionary tales, not something that actually showed up in his lane.

  The remaining Opp snapped into a different gear. Balcony fire sharpened immediately, rounds hammering into what was left of Theta-3’s cover. The rifleman on the right stopped hunting for cute angles and just started dumping rounds wherever Theta-3 might move.

  “Back row, hit joints!” Jax snapped. “Tanaka, you keep that thing off our faces.”

  “On it,” Tanaka said.

  The calm in his voice sounded forced now. Kaden heard it and realized his own hands were shaking. Anchor kept them usable. It didn’t make the fear go away.

  He leaned out, sighted on the Reaver’s closest knee, and fired.

  Rounds hit. Sparks spat off armor. Some sank into the plating, but Aurora didn’t ping him with the usual neat impact confirmation. The armor was eating most of it.

  “Rounds are landing, not doing much,” he said, voice too tight.

  “Then we give it more,” Jax snapped. “Navarro, same leg. Don’t get fancy, just carve.”

  Navarro’s reply came out clipped. “Copy.”

  Her Controlled Burst hammered the same leg, tight bursts chewing at the joint. The Reaver barely slowed—but Kaden thought he saw a tiny hitch in its step.

  The Reaver lifted its weapon one-handed and gave the bay a lazy, testing sweep.

  The air around the head rippled like heat. The shockwave smashed into a crate stack off to Kaden’s left. Boxes exploded, fragments ricocheting off his armor and helmet. He flinched, involuntary.

  “Tool’s boosted,” Tanaka rasped. “That’s System. No way that’s just muscle.”

  “Yeah, no shit,” Navarro said, breathing hard.

  “Tanaka,” Jax said. “Brace. It’s going to try you next.”

  The Reaver lowered its center of mass, gait tightening.

  It charged.

  Each step slammed into the deck with ugly, heavy thuds. It went straight for Tanaka like the rest of them weren’t there.

  “Anchor, now,” Jax ordered.

  SKILL – Shield Anchor (R1)

  AP: LCPL TANAKA 2/5

  Tanaka grunted. Kaden saw him set his boots, dropping his hips and jamming the Bulwark into the deck like he meant to become part of the hull.

  The Reaver brought the weapon down in an overhead chop meant to split him and the shield in half.

  The impact was like getting hit by a ship.

  Sound smashed into Kaden, deep and sharp at the same time. The deck jumped under his knees. The pressure in the air popped in his ears.

  The shield didn’t deflect it.

  The top half of the Bulwark bowed, fractured, and exploded into chunks, jagged pieces spinning across the bay. The lower half tore loose from its mounts and slammed backwards into Tanaka’s chest.

  “Ken—” Kaden started.

  His HUD flashed.

  LCPL TANAKA – IMPACT: SEVERE

  Tanaka staggered, boots skidding. A hoarse sound tore out of him—more animal than word—but he didn’t go down. Pain Conditioning kept his lights on through sheer stubbornness and sympathetic magic.

  The Reaver’s weapon bit deep into the deck, tearing a long gouge through the flooring.

  Tanaka hauled what was left of the shield around out of reflex. The top was just gone. The rest was twisted metal.

  “Shield’s dead,” he coughed. “It’s fucked. That’s it.”

  His voice shook on the first syllable, then steadied by force.

  He let the wreckage fall and fumblingly grabbed for his shotgun with his good arm, working the action with hands that weren’t entirely steady.

  “I’m still here,” he said, breath rough. “Just not behind a wall anymore.”

  Kaden realized he was breathing too fast. His fingers felt numb. Anchor held the outright panic at bay, but it couldn’t make him forget that there was no more Bulwark between them and the thing in the middle of the room.

  “Good enough,” Jax said. “You’re still the line. Shotgun up. Don’t give it a clean run.”

  Kaden leaned out again because if he didn’t, he’d freeze. He put another burst into the Reaver’s knee. Navarro mirrored him on the other leg. The big Opp’s walk slowed a fraction. Not enough to feel safe.

  Up top, one of the Opps tried to lean out for a shot. Navarro caught him with a tight burst, Controlled Burst keeping her pattern tight even with the adrenaline spike.

  “Balcony down to one!” she shouted. The pitch of her voice was too high.

  “Then ignore him,” Jax snapped. “He’s noise until he gets lucky.”

  The Reaver changed its grip, sliding one hand lower on the haft, helm tilting a few degrees. It stepped in again, faster than something that size had any right to.

  Tanaka fired the shotgun straight into its chest at near point-blank.

  The blast hammered into armor, cracking and scorching plate. The Reaver rocked back half a step. It didn’t fall.

  “Not enough,” Kaden whispered, more to himself than anyone.

  The Reaver twisted and ripped the weapon around in a tight, brutal arc.

  Tanaka tried to roll with it. Without the Bulwark, there was nothing to soak the hit. The haft smashed into his upper arm and ribs and sent him tumbling sideways, sliding across the deck. His shotgun skidded just out of reach.

  His tag flared again.

  LCPL TANAKA – WOUNDED

  TRAUMA: UPPER LIMB / TORSO – FRACTURE – NON-CRITICAL

  “Tanaka!” Navarro yelled.

  “I’m— still here,” he grunted. The words were ragged and a little breathless. “Don’t… let it follow through.”

  Kaden almost went to him. His legs tensed like they were going to move on their own.

  Anchor’s influence pulsed again, just enough that he held his ground instead of bolting.

  The Reaver’s helm turned toward Jax.

  She moved before it did, cutting sideways off the line where Tanaka had been, still putting bursts into its hip. Her breathing was harsh on the net now.

  “Mercer, Navarro—legs and hips, keep it busy!” she said. “Do not let it line up on anyone!”

  They obeyed. Not because they weren’t afraid, but because the alternative was standing there waiting to die.

  Kaden poured rounds into the Reaver’s joints, aim wobbling more than he liked. Navarro’s fire picked at the opposite side. The Reaver began to favor one leg, gait less smooth, but it hadn’t slowed enough to feel like they were winning.

  The lone balcony Opp took another shot, rounds sparking too close to Kaden’s helmet. He flinched, ducking without thinking.

  “Fuck,” he hissed.

  “I’ve got the high one,” Navarro said, breathing hard. “You worry about the walking tank.”

  The Reaver shifted grip again, sliding one hand even lower, weapon head dipping. It feinted toward Tanaka’s sprawled form, then snapped the swing around in a brutal backhand aimed straight at Jax.

  She tried to dive inside the arc.

  She almost made it.

  The head of the weapon clipped her instead of hitting clean—but “clipped” from that thing was still a full-body hit. It smashed into her side, taking shoulder, ribs, and part of her chest plate in one awful, crunching impact.

  Jax launched off her feet and slammed into the bay wall. The sound of her armor hitting metal was bad. The way she dropped afterward was worse.

  Her tag spiked on Kaden’s HUD.

  SSGT JAX – WOUNDED

  TRAUMA: THORACIC / SHOULDER

  STATUS: CRITICAL – RESPONSIVENESS: LOW

  Right underneath, another notification flashed.

  TRAIT – Anchor (SSGT JAX): INTERRUPTED

  SQUAD STRESS BONUS LOST

  Kaden felt it like a floorboard giving way—one moment there was something under his feet keeping the worst of his fear at arm’s length, the next it was just gone. His hands started to tremble properly. The room seemed to tighten around him.

  “Sergeant!” Navarro screamed.

  Jax didn’t respond.

  Vos’s tag sat pulsing unconscious behind broken crates. Tanaka was dragging himself toward his shotgun with one working arm, breath ragged. Jax was a crumpled shape against the wall.

  The Reaver turned back toward them, weapon rising slowly, almost lazily, like it knew it had just taken away the one thing holding the squad together.

  Kaden’s throat closed. His SMG felt like a toy. For a heartbeat, all he wanted to do was run.

  He forced his finger back onto the trigger anyway.

  If they didn’t stop that thing, none of those bars on his HUD meant a damn thing.