I never wanted to come back here. The woods of White Hall haven’t changed—thick pines, cold mist, the kind of silence that presses on your skull. I’m bleeding, exhausted, and one wrong move away from a cell or a coffin. The drones nearly killed the President. The FBI thinks I did it. And now, Salient Global—men I trained with—are hunting me.

I called Leah from a gas station. Just to hear her voice. To know they’re safe. But the call was traced. Cops swarmed. I took a truck, rammed through a roadblock, and wrecked it in the river. Now I’m walking, limping, my back on fire, knowing they’ll come.

Then I see it—my father’s cabin. Smoke from the chimney. He’s alive. And if he doesn’t shoot me on sight, he might be the only man who can help me survive.

I knock. The door cracks open. His rifle is pointed at my chest.

'You’re either very brave or very stupid,' he says.

'I’m your son,' I answer. 'And I need your help.'

He stares at me like I’m a ghost. Then he steps aside.

'You’ve got ten minutes to explain why the whole damn country wants you dead.'