The short drive to the off-site motor pool went by in a tense, heavy silence. Bastian handled the wheel while Drakon sat in the passenger seat, his dark eyes fixed on the tree line as we cut through the back roads of the compound. The secondary garage sat tucked away in a quiet sector, disguised as a modest, off-site outpost housing a few tactical vehicles and maintenance bays.
Bastian pulled up to the side of the building, cut the engine, and we hopped out without a word.
The heavy metal door groaned as we pushed inside. The scent of motor oil, grease, and cold steel hung thick in the air. A handful of Reapers scattered around the bay—some working on a transport, others sitting on overturned crates—instantly froze the second Drakon stepped through the threshold. Every single man stood u
