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The sun slanted low through the arched windows of the strategy hall, gilding the worn edges of maps, the faint burn marks on the table, and the faces of the thirteen men and women standing before her.

They were no longer the shadowy strike team, the silent specialists, the thirteen separate cogs that had turned the tide of the war. They were just themselves - bruised, tired, alive, and bound closer than any bloodline could ever tie.

Aria stood at the head of the table, her hands resting lightly on the wood. She had thought long and hard about this moment. For so long, the Zodiac had been hers...