Gunfire cracks somewhere deeper in the compound as we hit the hallway.
Concrete walls throw every shot back at us, turning the corridor into one long echo of violence.
“They know we’re here,” Clay snaps through comms.
“No kidding,” Miles fires back. “Whole place is waking up.”
“Rear exit’s compromised,” Lucas says. “Hostiles moving your direction fast.”
Of course they are.
I pull Olivia behind me as we round the corner.
Lights overhead flicker weakly.
One sparks near the far intersection.
Shadows jump across the walls.
Movement—
Two guards appear ahead.
I fire twice.
Bodies hit the floor before they fully register what happened.
“Left.”
Olivia turns with me instantly, one hand pressed low against her side when she thinks I’m not looking.
I notice anyway.
Blood darkens her shirt beneath her fingers.
Too much of it.
Something vicious claws up my spine.
Later.
Deal with it later.
Because if I let myself fully feel what they did to her right now, I’ll turn this entire compound into ash.
We cut through a side corridor lined with metal doors. One hangs open, medical supplies scattered across the floor—gauze, syringes, overturned trays.
Olivia slows.
“Russ—”
“Keep moving.”
“I heard children—”
“I know.”
The answer comes out rougher than I mean it to.
