Days had passed, maybe weeks. It was hard to keep track when time inside the base blurred together into an endless cycle of routines and survival.
Winter kept his head down, moving like a shadow through the base, avoiding Adrian's sharp gaze and keeping his ears open. The barracks were tense—whispers of unease slithered through the ranks, soldiers murmuring about an operation no one seemed to have the full details on.
Despite Bale's efforts in keeping them out of the spotlight, they still got given duties.
Harlowe had been reassigned to wall sentry duty, which was practically a death sentence, leaving soldiers vulnerable, exposed to the mist that hung beyond the walls. It was an accident waiting to happen.
Winter had been thrown into a patrol shift. Patrols along the outskirts took days to complete.
Were they trying to silence him?
