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Oh, god.
No.
Dante grabs my arm. “He’s gone, Lilah.”
“No.” I jerk free. “No, no. He’ll get back up. We always get back up—”
“Lilah! Look at me!” He takes my face in his hands and warm blood wipes along my cheek. “I need you here, okay?”
“We can’t leave him!”
“Get up.” He pulls me to my feet. “It’s what he’d do.”
I push him away. “No—”
He shoves me back against the wall as another round of bullets rain into the elevator. Dante grabs my gun off the floor and forces it into my open palm. Muscle memory latches around the grip. I hold it steady as everything else inside of me spirals out of control.
Dante aims into the lobby, carefully hugging the wall as he fires several rounds toward the bar. He takes a quick step back, grabs my hand, and yanks me out with him. We quickly take cover behind the nearest couches, narrowly dodging a few close hits along the way.
My eyes stay on Elijah and he wakes up.
His eyes flash open. He sits straight up and pulls himself off the floor.
He grabs his gun, rolls out to join us, and we all escape together.
The way it’s always been.
I blink and he’s still in the elevator, slumped over in a pool of blood.
“Lilah!”
I force it all into the back of my mind as the doors slide closed on him. I check how many rounds I have left and slam the clip back in while I tilt my head out.
Four agents remain between us and the entrance and I only have two rounds left. There’s nothing but chairs and catatonic civilians between us and them. Myra and the others are on their way down right now. If we wait to move any longer, we’ll be trapped here.
I push upward and aim across the room, firing high to catch an agent in the throat. Dante does the same and the two agents topple to their knees.
“I only have one left,” I say. “Where’s the car?”
“Out back,” Dante says.
I point across the lobby to the bar. “Go through the kitchen to the parking lot. I’ll clear the rest and meet you out front.”
He hesitates. “Lilah…”
“Go! Now.”
I slide the knife free from my ankle holster.
Dante looks from me to the blade and back again before nodding. “I’ll see you in thirty seconds,” he says.
“Thirty seconds,” I repeat.
I aim up at the golden chandelier hanging from the ceiling, squinting hard to make the last bullet count. I fire and we move fast, bolting in opposite directions across the lobby.
The bullet tears through the chain and the chandelier plummets to the floor behind the agents.
It distracts them for a second but that’s all I need.
