BODIE“There’s movement beyond the eastern ridge,” the scout reports, breath steady, posture respectful. “Not hostile yet. But organized.”

The words ripple through the chamber, quiet but charged. I straighten from where I’ve been leaning against the long oak table, fingers curling slowly. Eastern ridge. That stretch of land has been quiet for months, too quiet to ignore, too deliberate to dismiss.

Dyer’s gaze flicks to mine for half a second. It’s enough. We’ve shared too many ...