“Fuck!” V drops the controller and lunges for his gun on the coffee table. “Get down!”
My body reacts before my brain can catch up. I hit the floor as the first shots shatter the front windows, glass raining down like deadly hail. V grabs my arm, dragging me behind the couch.
“They found us,” I gasp, panic clawing up my throat. “How did they?—”
“Doesn't matter,” V growls, checking his weapon. “Back door. Now.”
More gunfire erupts, bullets tearing through drywall and furniture. The television explodes in a shower of sparks. V shoves me toward the kitchen, keeping his body between me and the windows.
“Is it Terrance?” I ask, crawling.
“I don't know,” V hisses, his face tight with concentration.
Another volley of bullets tears through the kitchen cabinets, sending splinters of wood flying. V curses, returning fire through the shattered window.
“The basement,” he says suddenly, grabbing my arm. “Get down there now!”
I freeze. “The basement? Where Vincent?—”
“It's the only defensible position.” V shoves me toward the door. “Hide down there and don't fucking come out until it's one of us. Me, Thor, or Ratchet. No one else.”
“What are you going to do?”
V ejects his magazine and slams in a fresh one. “Buy us time. Thor and Ratchet will be back soon. I just need to hold them off until then.”
“But you'll be killed?—”
“Move!” He pushes me toward the basement door with such force I stumble. “Lock it behind you!”
I scramble down the stairs, my heart hammering so hard I can feel it in my throat. I pull the door shut, turning the deadbolt with trembling fingers.
The concrete floor is cold beneath my bare feet as I search for a place to hide. Vincent's blood still stains the plastic sheeting in dark, irregular patterns, his ghost lingering in every shadow. I force myself to look away, pressing my back against the far wall where Thor's makeshift torture station still stands—overturned table, scattered tools, chains hanging from hooks like metal snakes.
Gunfire erupts above me, rapid bursts that shake dust from the ceiling. V's voice carries through the floorboards, shouting something I can't make out over the chaos. Then silence. Terrible, suffocating silence.
My phone. I need my phone. I pat my pockets frantically, remembering I left it upstairs on the kitchen counter. Fuck. Noway to call Thor, no way to warn him he's driving straight into an ambush.
The basement door rattles. Someone is trying the handle.
I slide deeper into the shadows, crouching behind a stack of paint cans. My breathing sounds impossibly loud in the confined space. The door rattles again, more violently this time.
“There’s a basement,” A man's voice says, muffled by the door.
It's not Thor or Ratchet. My muscles lock up, every instinct screaming at me to stay hidden. V's words echo in my head.No one else.
The door explodes inward with a crash of splintered wood. Heavy boots thunder down the stairs, and I press myself smaller against the wall, praying the shadows will swallow me whole.
I curl into myself, making my body as small as possible behind the paint cans. The sound of boots on concrete echoes through the basement—one set, then another. Heavy breathing. Metal clicking against metal.
“Check behind those shelves. She's gotta be down here somewhere. She didn’t get out the back door.”
Flashlight beams slice through the darkness, dancing across blood-stained plastic and concrete walls. I hold my breath as light passes inches from my hiding spot, illuminating dust particles floating in the air.
“Look at this place,” someone mutters. “Fucking animals.”
The beam sweeps back, catching the edge of my shirt. I flinch, pressing harder against the wall, but it's too late. The light freezes, then moves deliberately to my face.
“Found her!”
