A single shot.
Precise.
Final.
Roscov’s body goes still.
The mountain exhales.
Aaron lowers his weapon slowly. “Target neutralized.”
Miles scans the room. “No other hostiles.”
Jase mutters, “That’s it, then.”
I stand—but something nags at me.
A hum.
Low.
Electronic.
I turn back to the shattered console Roscov was pinned beneath. One screen is still active—cracked but running.
Encrypted channel.
Not Ascendancy.
Not civilian.
Old.
Too old.
I step closer.
The screen flickers—and then a voice crackles through the damaged speaker.
Distorted. Faint.
But unmistakable.
“—Ghostline, do you copy?”
My blood freezes.
That callsign hasn’t been spoken aloud in years.
I reach for the console, fingers steady despite the pounding in my chest.
“Repeat,” I say slowly. “Who is this?”
Static.
Then—
“You’re not as dead as they told us,” the voice says. “And neither are we.”
