Then I chamber another round into my rifle and start walking.
“We get her back.”
Not hope.
Not strategy.
Promise.
22
Olivia
Pain wakes me first.
Sharp heat pulses through my ribs hard enough to drag a broken breath from my lungs before I even open my eyes.
For one confused second, everything is dark.
Still.
Wrong.
Then awareness crashes back in piece by piece.
My wrists ache.
Rope bites into skin already scraped raw.
My side burns beneath a tight bandage that feels sticky now.
Blood.
Still bleeding a little.
Fantastic.
I force myself to breathe slowly through the pain while my vision adjusts to the dim room around me.
Concrete walls.
No windows.
A single strip of weak light spills through cracks somewhere overhead.
The air smells like dust, oil, old metal.
Not moving.
So not a vehicle anymore.
A building.
Somewhere enclosed.
Somewhere bad.
Voices drift faintly through the walls outside.
