An hour earlier…
The monitors flickered inside the cold steel walls of the Hunter's Association HQ, screens stretched from floor to ceiling. Each one showed different parts of the world—on fire, torn open, crawling with things not meant to exist.
Dera stood in the middle of it all, arms crossed, jaw tight. Her eyes were fixed on one feed. The one that mattered.
Her father.
Fowler.
He was locked in combat alongside Vladimir, Greta, Boris—their silhouettes moving like war gods through a battlefield soaked in ruin. Near them was Ken, her boyfriend, fighting like a savage blur against Remu. She saw Angel there too, and Ella, Mob, and Francisca. All of them standing in the fire while she stood in this damned room.
Safe.
She hated it.
A screen near the center zoomed in as Remu blasted a crater in the dirt, barely missing Ken's back. Dera's breath caught.
"I can't just watch this," she whispered.
