The attack came at dawn, just like Viktor Kane had planned.
I stood on the ridge overlooking Silver Creek's main compound, watching black helicopters emerge from the morning mist like mechanical vultures. Through the power-sharing network, I could feel every supernatural being in our defensive positions—their fear, their determination, their absolute trust that I wouldn't let them die for nothing.
"Contact," Jake's voice crackled through our comm system. "Multiple aircraft approaching from three vectors. Enhanced heat signatures suggest non-standard human physiology."
Enhanced Protocol operatives. Three hundred government-trained killers with reality-manipulation abilities, equipped with weapons designed specifically to counter everything we could do.
