The syndicate had officially revoked his contract, and his backing was gone.

The mercenaries took two steps back from Caleb, leaving him standing alone in the center of the gravel lot.

Caleb looked at them, his chest heaving under his heavy coat.

“Wait,” Caleb said, his voice shaking slightly.

“I can double your pay. I have accounts they don’t know about.”

The lead mercenary didn’t look at him.

He simply raised his rifle, pointing the barrel directly at Caleb’s chest.

Another engine roared in the distance, out beyond the perimeter wall.

Headlights cut through the dark, dense woods outside the main gates.

Three black SUVs pulled up to the outer iron bars, their tires splashing through the mud.

The silver emblem on the doors belonged to the regional syndicate’s cleanup crew.

A phone in Caleb’s coat pocket began to ring, its screen illuminating his fabric in the dark.

The phone kept ringing in Caleb’s pocket.

The sound was thin and metallic against the damp night air.

Nobody moved.

The lead mercenary kept his rifle leveled at Caleb’s chest, his finger steady on the trigger.