The fighting.
The explosions.
Just her.
Alive.
For one split second, the fear in her expression cracks completely.
Relief flashes there so fast and raw it hits me like a punch to the chest.
Then another burst of gunfire slams into the concrete beside her.
She ducks instantly, shielding the child again.
That’s it.
I’m moving before anyone can stop me.
“Clay!”
Russ shouts after me, but I’m already sprinting across the street through smoke and flying debris.
Bullets crack overhead.
One round punches through a nearby wall close enough to spray concrete across my shoulder.
Don’t care.
All I see is Hannah.
She grabs the child tightly while chaos erupts around us.
Then suddenly—
One of the militia fighters appears from the smoke near the warehouse entrance with his rifle raised directly toward her.
Time slows instantly.
I see the weapon coming up.
See Hannah twisting toward the movement too late.
See the child still clinging to her.
No.
Absolutely not.
I fire twice while still moving.
The hostile drops instantly before he can pull the trigger.
Hannah’s eyes snap toward me in shock.
Then anger.
Actual anger.
