“Russ—”
Gunfire detonates above us.
The sound slams through the canyon so violently it rattles my teeth.
“DOWN!” Lucas roars.
I hit the ground instantly, grabbing the nearest child and dragging her beneath me as bullets shred the dirt around us.
Rock splinters explode overhead.
Children scream.
Dust blasts into the air thick enough to choke on.
“They’re on the ridge!” someone shouts.
Another burst of gunfire rains down from above.
Too close.
Way too close.
I curl tighter around the little girl beneath me while dirt sprays across my back.
“It’s okay,” I whisper automatically, even though my own heart is hammering hard enough to hurt. “Stay down—don’t move—”
A bullet cracks against the rock inches from my face.
The little girl cries harder.
Then suddenly—
A hand grabs me.
Hard.
Not Russ.
Not anyone I know.
Fear punches straight through me.
No.
The man jerks me backward violently, fingers locked around my arm.
Pain rips through my shoulder.
I twist on instinct and drive my elbow backward as hard as I can.
Solid impact.
The man grunts something sharp in Farsi—
But he doesn’t let go.
My boots scrape uselessly against loose dirt as he drags me uphill.
