UN air wings are in position, Kade projected, his mental voice a steady drumbeat. F-35s and F-22s holding at twenty thousand feet. The Pacific fleet has their Aegis cruisers locked on the upper atmosphere.
The lattice is holding at ninety percent capacity, I replied, feeling the deep, resonant hum of the three hundred wolves in the courtyard below. Silas is holding the northern quadrant. Lyra has the east. We’re ready.
They’re here, Kade said, his mental tone dropping to a lethal, focused calm.
I looked up.
It started as a faint shimmer at the edge of the atmosphere, like heat haze on a summer highway. Then, the blue sky began to bruise. A deep, sickly violet color bled across the zenith, spreading outward like ink dropped in water.
The temperature plummeted twenty degrees in a single
