Chapter 209
The room felt like a coffin.
Dim, grimy, filled with the stink of oil and blood, its walls seemed to press inward with every breath they took.
Zara sat in the far corner, her back against the wall, Leo cradled in her arms. His tiny body was curled into her, face tucked into her neck, his silent tears dampening her collar.
She whispered to him—nonsense words, anything to distract him from the chaos they’d just escaped.
Once again, she was putting her baby through the stress even adults shouldn’t have to experience.
"You’re safe, baby. We’re gonna get out of here. Just hold on a little longer."
Leo didn’t respond, just trembled. She could feel the shudders, deep and uncontrollable, even as he tried to be brave.
Winter stood by the door, peering through a narrow slit in the rusted metal. Sweat dripped from his jawline, but his rifle never lowered. His back was rigid, every muscle coiled like wire. His eyes scanned the corridor with a deadly calm, but his hand drifted once, briefly, to Zara’s shoulder.
A squeeze. A wordless, anchoring gesture.
She squeezed his hand back. They didn’t need words.
Miles squatted near a toppled tool bench, his expression grim as he laid out what little ammunition they had left. Three full mags, half a box of .45s, one extra clip for the rifle, and a single frag grenade nestled in his palm like a prayer.