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“Fuck.” Derrick stares at me for a couple of moments, as he’s clearly trying to decide what to do. “Snipers are free to take out whoever they can. See if you can stop any of the vans before they get here.”

Caleb and Mathew show up behind him, looking ragged, wild.

“Any team in hiding on the north side that can use an extra pair of hands?” Caleb speaks through the earpiece, but looks at Derrick for confirmation.

“Team E. Warehouse next door. Front rooms. They’re well-equipped.” Timothy and Derrick answer him at the same time with the exact same cadence, like they’re sharing a single mind.

Caleb blinks for a moment, then nods and is out the door, joining team E.

Before Mathew can follow Caleb, Derrick stops him. “You’re not going anywhere. I need you here. You take my place. I’m joining team D on the other side.”

“Why am I staying here? You know that I’m just as good as you are out there.” Mathew glares at him.

“Because this is your raid. Three of your pack members are still inside, and you know the layout of this place better than anyone. You’re of more use here right now.”

And, with that, Derrick is off.

One of the backup teams barges through the back door, looking for Derrick, but finding Mathew instead.

“Front rooms. Upstairs, downstairs. Same orders as everyone else. Take them out, don’t let them come closer. When the last kids are safe, we all pull out.” Mathew straightens his back, focused, in command, his whole body language changing.

He looks scary right now.

This is Mathew ‘The Cleaner’ Page, a man feared for his ruthlessness.

And I totally understand why people are terrified of him when he gets like this.

The door creaks one last time before the hinges break off the frame. They used a reinforced door but didn’t use special hinges or frame, so that’s where the weakest spots were.

The guys in front of the door pull it out of the way.

The terrified pheromones from the basement flood out, making me sick to my stomach.

But I push through.

I’m here to help them.

I’m here because they know me, they know I’m safe.

I step into the basement, my heart hurting at what I find. Crying kids. Kids huddled in corners, trying to get away from everyone. And a couple of adults in states not much better.

As I turn to look around, Mathew steps in front of me and two shots ring through the basement, almost at the same time. The sounds keep bouncing off the walls, making it seem even louder.

Mathew’s hand lands heavily on my shoulder, he’s keeping himself up but he’s shaking.

People flood into the room, creating a living wall around us, and I try to find out what happened to Mathew.

I turn to him, looking him up and down, and even though his face is distorted in pain, I can’t seem to find where he’s hurt.

First, I touch his chest. He’s not shot there and the bullet-proof vest is still fine.

Then I touch lower, his belly, fear rushing through me.

What if he got shot in his belly?

But that also doesn’t seem to be the case.

Relief floods me.