The sound pulled them—heads snapping toward the noise, their bodies following it as if it were gravity.
We moved the other way.
The lounge door came into view at the end of the hall.
I tapped softly on the door. “Lucas.”
Silence. Then movement from inside.
I heard a barricade being removed, then the door opened.
“It’s about damn time,” Lucas growled. “What the hell was that noise?”
I sighed, “An alternative to knocking.”
“Was that a joke?” he looked confused.
“Maybe. Now let’s get the fuck out of here.”
Lucas’s face showed his exhaustion—dark circles under his eyes and patches of sweat on his shirt.
Inside, there were four students. All of them looked in decent shape except for the one holding the inhaler.
“It’s time to move,” Lucas said to the group.
One girl went to grab her backpack.
“Leave it,” I growled.
This was going to be hard enough without extra baggage dragging them down.
She didn’t argue and lowered it back to the floor.
“Stay close,” Lucas told them. “You follow him.” He motioned to me, “You listen and stay quiet.”
I reached into my jacket and pulled out my secondary weapon. He saw it and hesitated. I knew it had been some time since he’d handled a gun.
“I don’t?—”
An older boy spoke up, “If he doesn’t want it, I’ll take it.”
Lucas gave him a look. “Not no, but hell no.”
I pressed the grip into Lucas’s hand and closed his fingers around it. “We don’t have time for this,” I spoke quickly and quietly. “It’s like riding a bike. Safety’s off. Center mass is easiest, but a head shot is best.”
He gave me a nod.
Good.
I slid a spare magazine into his free hand. “One reload. Make them count.”
Lucas dropped the mag, checked the load, and racked the slide in one smooth motion.
I knew it would come back to him.
“Stay on my six,” I told him. “The kids are your responsibility. I’m here for you. No one else.”
He narrowed his eyes at me, but his posture shifted—shoulders set, and his weight moved forward onto the balls of his feet.
