He stepped out of the truck, the air thick with the smell of salt, rotting wood, and wet earth. He pulled a flashlight from his pocket but did not turn it on. He moved by muscle memory toward the old pier.
"Who is clearing the board, Marcus? Sit down, you're bleeding." Aden Aden Aden
Through the receiver came a heavy, panicked inhale, followed by a voice that sounded like gravel being crushed. "Aden... Aden... Aden." The line went dead. He stepped out of the truck, the air
"They're here," Marcus whispered, a strange, calm resolve washing over his face. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small flare gun. "I’ll buy you five minutes. Take the old fisherman's trail down the south face of the cliff. My boat is tied to the low buoy. Don't look back, Elias. Just go." "Who is clearing the board, Marcus
Twenty minutes later, Elias was pushing his rusted truck through the dense coastal fog. The headlights barely punched through the grey soup, reflecting off the skeletal pine trees that lined the cliffside road. His mind raced back to the academy, to the four of them—Elias, Marcus, Silas, and Clara. They had promised to look out for each other, no matter where life scattered them. Marcus was the one who came up with the emergency protocol.
"There's no time!" Marcus snapped, flinching as a gull shrieked overhead. He thrust the briefcase toward Elias. "They traced my signal. They knew I'd call someone. Take it. Clara is in the city, she has the encryption key. You have to get it to her."