LEONARD'S POV

The rain pounded against the thick glass windows of the mobile command center, which was parked on a high ridge that looked down on the burning remains of the south mountain road bridge.

Inside the trailer, rows of sharp, clear screens filled the room with a cold blue glow. Satellite pictures, heat maps, and secret message channels moved across the screens without stopping. The air smelled of hot machines and wet coats. Fans hummed in the corners, and every few seconds a small alarm chirped and went quiet again.

I stood behind the lead operator, swirling a glass of twenty-year-old scotch and watching the orange flames flicker on...