Then nods once.
“Thirty seconds.”
Good enough.
I carefully hand the little girl to him and move toward the reinforced door.
Locked.
Of course.
I fire twice into the hinges.
Kick hard.
The door slams inward.
Cold air rolls out immediately.
Dark room.
Chains rattling softly somewhere inside.
Then I see them.
Dr. Hannah Bowers chained against the far wall.
Stephen Cole beside her.
Bruised.
Bloodied.
Barely conscious.
Alive.
And in the corner—
Three mothers huddled together.
The second they see us, they try to stand.
32
Russ
The hallway outside surgery is too quiet.
That’s the first thing that feels wrong.
After gunfire and explosions and engines screaming through the canyon—
This silence feels brutal.
Like the world’s holding its breath waiting for bad news.
I pace once down the hall.
