Jesus Christ.
“She helped us,” the girl cries. “Please—they took her—”
“Where?” I demand.
The girl flinches hard enough that I immediately loosen my grip.
Russ steps in beside me, calm and steady while I feel like my pulse is trying to tear through my ribs.
“You’re safe,” Russ tells her gently. “Talk to us.”
The girl’s chest heaves as she points shakily toward the eastern district.
“Warehouse near river. Men fighting there.” Her voice breaks harder. “Doctor stayed behind.”
Ice floods my bloodstream.
Stayed behind.
No.
No, Hannah wouldn’t leave civilians.
Of course she wouldn’t.
The girl grabs my sleeve suddenly.
“She save children,” she whispers. “Would not leave.”
Dammit, Hannah.
My eyes close briefly for half a second.
Because I can see it perfectly.
Her standing between terrified civilians and armed men.
Making impossible choices.
Sacrificing herself so others could escape.
That’s exactly who she is.
“Was she hurt?” I ask tightly.
The girl hesitates.
That hesitation nearly kills me.
“She fought them.”
Not the answer I wanted.
My jaw tightens hard enough to ache.
Russ helps the girl toward Boone’s vehicle while Lucas studies the street ahead.
“Warehouse district’s becoming a combat zone,” he says quietly. “Multiple armed factions moving through.”
