Kailun's spirit zipped through the air, gliding swiftly above rooftops and between trees. He moved with urgency now, each second filling him with a heavier sense of dread. The house they were staying in—it was surrounded.
Not just one house down.
Not just ten houses down.
Every house within earshot had soldiers stationed at windows, on porches, behind curtains. Some sat inside, rifles propped beside them. Others stood by with binoculars, watching the same direction—toward his family. Observing them all through the multiple windows.
It was like a net. A quiet, calculated trap.
And the realization hit him square in the chest.
This wasn't coincidence. This wasn't random.
This was planned. Everything was well planned.
He hovered higher above the street and turned, eyes scanning the perimeter again. The pattern was unmistakable. No soldier was guarding any other direction. The surveillance wasn't general—it was concentrated.
Their house was the center of it all.
