Not fear exactly.
Instinct.
Opportunity.
The younger guard steps toward the doorway to look outside.
The older one follows him a second later.
And for the first time since being taken—
Nobody is watching me directly.
I glance toward the office window.
Too small.
Metal bars.
No good.
The unconscious guard groans weakly beside me.
The second injured man watches me carefully now.
Then quietly—
In heavily accented English—
“You should run.”
I freeze.
His eyes flick toward the door.
“They lose control outside.”
Gunfire explodes again.
Very close.
The warehouse lights flicker once overhead.
The injured man grimaces painfully before looking back at me.
“You stay here…” He exhales hard. “You die with everyone.”
A child screams somewhere out in the warehouse.
My heart kicks painfully against my ribs.
Amira.
I stand immediately.
The wounded guard grabs my wrist weakly before I can move away.
“Children first,” he says quietly.
