Still enough to ground me instantly.
“Clay.”
I glance toward her sharply.
Her eyes lock onto mine.
Steady despite the chaos around us.
Despite the fear I can see buried underneath it.
“He’s scared.”
The statement catches me completely off guard.
“What?”
She slowly looks toward the operator.
“You’re afraid of whoever’s coming next.”
The operator says nothing.
And that silence is deafening.
Russ notices it too.
“So who’s crossing that bridge?” he asks quietly.
The militia commander suddenly answers from outside.
“The people you should all be afraid of.”
Not reassuring.
Gunfire intensifies near the northern streets.
Closer now.
Heavy caliber rounds.
Armored movement.
This isn’t another militia group.
This is something organized enough to make hardened operators nervous.
The operator finally looks directly at me again.
“If you care about her,” he says quietly, “you need to move now.”
I stare at him for one long second.
Then ask the question that’s been burning through my head since this started.
“Who the hell are you?”
For the first time—
