15. Hannah
Hannah
Darkness swallows the warehouse.
Children start crying instantly.
Somewhere nearby, glass shatters as another explosion rocks the river district hard enough to shake the floor beneath us.
“Night vision on,” Russ orders over comms.
Green light flickers across Clay’s face a second later as his goggles activate.
The effect should make him look less dangerous.
It absolutely does not.
If anything, the hard lines of his face look sharper now.
More lethal.
His hand tightens around mine.
“We’re moving.”
Heavy engines rumble outside.
Closer now.
Too close.
I can hear armored vehicles approaching through the gunfire.
“The north bridge convoy?” I ask quietly.
Clay’s jaw flexes.
“Probably.”
Meaning whoever runs this operation is already repositioning forces.
Or preparing another transfer.
Neither option is good.
Lucas appears through the smoke carrying an exhausted little girl against his chest.
“South exit’s collapsing,” he says. “We need another route.”
“The office corridor,” I answer immediately. “There’s a secondary loading dock behind the storage rooms.”
Clay looks down at me sharply.
“You saw that?”
“I was kidnapped, not unconscious.”
Miles laughs breathlessly somewhere behind us.
“I missed her.”
Heat flashes unexpectedly across my face.
Wrong timing for that reaction.
Very wrong.
Gunfire erupts outside again.
Closer.
One of the younger boys screams near the overturned crates while smoke thickens around us.
“We move now,” Russ snaps.
Everything becomes motion after that.
Fast.
Chaotic.
Violent.
Lucas carries two children while Miles helps the wounded civilians through the darkened corridor behind the offices.
I keep one arm wrapped around a terrified little girl while trying to keep pressure against a man’s shoulder wound with my free hand.
Clay stays directly behind me the entire time.
Close enough that I can feel him there even without looking.
Watching everything.
Tracking every threat.
Protecting me.
The realization sends something dangerous curling low in my chest.
We round the office corridor just as another explosion detonates somewhere near the main entrance.
The blast wave slams through the hallway.
Concrete cracks overhead.
Dust pours from the ceiling.
Then—
The entire corridor shudders violently.
“MOVE!” Clay roars.
The ceiling collapses behind us.
Concrete and metal crash into the hallway hard enough to shake the floor beneath my boots.
The little girl cries harder against me.
I tighten my grip on her instantly.
“It’s okay,” I whisper. “I’ve got you.”
Clay’s hand suddenly presses against the middle of my back, guiding me faster through the smoke-filled corridor.
The touch burns straight through me.
Even now.
Even here.
God.
The secondary loading dock finally comes into view ahead.
Half-open metal doors.
Moonlight spilling through smoke.
Freedom.
Almost.
Then gunfire explodes through the doorway.
Everyone drops instantly.
Clay slams down over me and the little girl, shielding us with his body as bullets rip through the loading dock walls.
The sound is deafening.
Concrete sprays across my arms.
The child underneath me sobs hysterically.
“Stay down!” Russ shouts.
Clay’s chest crushes against my back while he returns fire over the concrete barrier beside us.
The deep sound of his rifle echoes violently through the corridor.
Controlled bursts.
Precise shots.
Killing shots.
I risk a quick glance upward.
At least six armed men outside.
Maybe more.
Blocking the exit.
Of course they are.
“We’re pinned!” Lucas yells.
Clay shifts above me slightly, scanning the doorway.
Then suddenly his head turns sharply toward the river outside.
Heavy engines.
Multiple vehicles.
And then headlights cut through the smoke beyond the loading dock.
My stomach drops instantly.
More militia arriving.
“We need another route,” I whisper.
Clay’s expression hardens immediately.
“There isn’t one.”
The words settle cold in my chest.
Because I hear the truth underneath them.
We’re trapped.
The little girl clings tightly to me while chaos erupts around us.
Gunfire.
Smoke.
Screaming metal.
And somehow in the middle of all of it—
Clay reaches back blindly and grabs my hand again.
Like he needs to know I’m still there.
My pulse stumbles hard.
Because I realize something terrifying in that moment.
If Clay dies protecting me—
It will destroy me.
The thought hits so suddenly and violently I almost stop breathing.
Then a new voice suddenly cuts through the gunfire outside.
Sharp.
Commanding.
Furious.
The militia outside immediately stop firing.
Silence crashes down almost instantly afterward.
Clay goes perfectly still above me.
Every muscle in his body tightens.
Dangerously.
“What is it?” I whisper.
His eyes stay locked on the loading dock entrance.
Cold now.
Deadly.
“That,” he says quietly, “sounds like the man in charge.”