Weapons.
Medical supplies.
No Hannah.
The pressure in my chest starts building again.
Too slow.
We’re moving too damn slow.
“Second floor,” I snap quietly.
Russ nods once.
We stack near the stairwell.
Lucas moves first.
Then me.
The second-floor hallway stretches long and dim beneath flickering overhead lights.
Steel doors line both sides.
My pulse starts hammering again.
Because one of these doors—
Jesus Christ.
One of these doors might finally lead to her.
Miles checks the first room.
“Clear.”
Second room.
“Clear.”
Third—
“Movement.”
I’m already moving before he finishes speaking.
I hit the door hard enough it slams against the wall.
Weapon raised.
Heart punching violently against my ribs.
And for one split second—
I think it’s her.
Small frame.
