Chapter 707
- The forest floor was a chaotic tapestry of churned dirt, shredded leaves, and the metallic tang of Caleb’s blood.
- Every few seconds, the rhythmic crack of Ivy’s rifle split the air, pinning the high-ranking commander behind a decaying log like a beetle under a boot.
- Caleb scrambled, his white hair now matted to a muddy gray, his expensive tactical gear torn by thorns.