Chapter 47
Clay
We’re halfway out when it goes bad.
It was always going to.
“Move!” I snap, pushing the kids ahead of me.
Lucas is guiding them, one hand out, voice steady. “Stay with me—don’t stop.”
They’re moving faster now.
Fear will do that.
We hit the corridor—
And gunfire explodes from the far end.
“They’re blocking the exit!” Miles shouts.
Of course they are. This was never going to be easy.
I drop into a crouch, put the boy down, and return fire.
Two go down.
Another takes cover.
“They’re trying to box us in,” Lucas mutters.
Not happening.
“Alternate route,” I say.
Lucas shakes his head. “No time.”
He’s right.
We either break through—
Or we don’t get out.
I look at the kids.
Wide eyes.
Shaking.
Trusting us.
That’s all I need.
“Stay behind me,” I tell them.
Then I move.
Fast.
Aggressive.
I push forward into the gunfire, forcing them back, forcing space, forcing an opening.
Miles covers my flank.
Lucas keeps the kids tight behind us.
While the kids help with the boy, who is injured.
We advance—
Inches at a time.
Bullets slam into the walls around us.
Too close.
Way too close.
But we keep moving.
Because stopping isn’t an option.
Olivia
The room feels different now.
Less heavy.
Less distant.
More real.
I shift slightly—
Pain flares.
Sharp.
Immediate.
I suck in a breath.
Russ is there instantly.
“Easy.”
“I’m okay,” I whisper.
He gives me a look.
Not believing that for a second.
I almost smile.
Almost.
“You don’t have to pretend with me,” he says quietly.
I know that.
Still—
“…hurts,” I admit.
His hand tightens around mine.
“I know.”
The way he says it—
It’s not just about the injury.
It’s everything.
All of it.
I study him again.
Closer now.
Clearer.
“You stayed the whole time,” I say.
Not a question.
A truth.
He nods once.
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
The word slips out before I can stop it.
Not because I don’t know.
But because I need to hear it.
His gaze locks onto mine.
Something shifts there.
Something real.
Something unguarded.
“Because it’s you.”
That hits harder than anything else tonight.
My chest tightens.
Not from pain.
From something else entirely.
I don’t look away.
“Yeah,” I whisper.
Because that’s enough.
For now.