When the armored van rumbled back through the camp gates, Sasha expected at least a reluctant cheer or a pat on the back.
After all, she, Dylan, and the others had returned alive from a raid that should've been a suicide mission. Instead, they were greeted by soldiers with raised guns and cold eyes.
Ben stood at the center of the courtyard, arms folded, his bulk framed by the dying light. "Welcome back," he said dryly. "You've saved us the trouble of hunting you down."
Cloud's brow furrowed. "What's this supposed to mean?"
Ben's voice was like gravel. "It means you're all under arrest—for breaking camp protocol."
Before anyone could react, soldiers swarmed them. Rifles pressed against their backs as they were stripped of their weapons, packs, even their personal trinkets.
Sasha's protests went unheard, her arm twisted behind her as cuffs clicked shut.
