“Profiles.”
The air inside the SUV changes instantly.
Because we all understand what that means.
Children cataloged.
Evaluated.
Conditioned.
My throat tightens painfully.
Gabriel looks directly at me now.
“You’ll probably find your file there.”
No.
Not probably.
Definitely.
And somehow that scares me more than Wu himself.
Russ slows the SUV as the convoy approaches the edge of the industrial district.
Fog hangs low between abandoned factories and rusted rail yards.
The city feels empty here.
Dead.
Perfect place for monsters to hide.
Lucas’s voice crackles through comms from the second vehicle.
“Thermals show exterior patrols.”
Russ kills the headlights immediately.
The convoy disappears into darkness.
Ahead—
the old communications tower rises through the fog like a grave marker.
Tall.
Decaying.
Silent.
But I know better now.
Nothing about Sentinel is ever truly silent.
Clay leans closer beside me.
