Our heads turned in unison to see Malcolm, my father, and a full contingent of Sentinels emerging from the treeline.

Realizing she was surrounded, Rebecca's eyes darted around, searching for an escape route, but it was too late.

More Sentinels materialized from every direction, cutting off all paths of retreat.

She took a few faltering steps backward, genuine fear finally etching itself onto her face.

“I have warned you, time and again,” Malcolm snarled, his voice vibrating with incandescent rage. “To lay a hand on my Luna is to sign your own death warrant!”

In a desperate, final gambit, Rebecca rushed forward and clung to Malcolm's powerful arm, her voice...