ZEUS

The SUV glides through the security checkpoint of the Haven, tinted windows, armored chassis, GPS disabled. The guard at the gate waves us through without a glance. Everything’s been pre-cleared. Everything about this night has been choreographed to feel like a victory.

In the back, Darian is slumped across the seat, wrists zip-tied, head tilted to one side. The tranq hasn’t worn off yet. There’s dried blood at his collar, fresh bruises on his jaw. He looks smaller like this, but heavier somehow. A weight I’ve been dragging for miles.

We pull up to the main building. Two soldiers move in as soon as we stop, opening the door,...