I force myself back half a step.
Barely.
The hostage swallows hard.
“They move her,” she whispers. “Yesterday.”
Yesterday.
Too late again.
Something dark twists sharply through my chest.
“Where did they take her?” Russ asks calmly.
The woman shakes her head quickly.
“I don’t know. North maybe. Fighting area.” Tears fill her eyes again. “She help people. She help everyone.”
Of course she did.
Even here.
Even captured.
That tightness in my chest turns almost painful.
“What fighting area?” I demand.
“She hurt one guard,” the hostage says quickly, voice shaking harder now. “They angry. They take her away after.”
A strange flicker of pride cuts straight through the dread.
Yeah.
That sounds exactly like Hannah.
Russ studies the woman carefully.
“How long ago?”
“Morning convoy.”
My stomach drops.
Hours.
We missed her by hours.
The room suddenly feels too small.
Too hot.
Too tight.
I turn away sharply, dragging a hand down my face while rage coils violently beneath my skin.
I saw that window.
