She stares at me, breathless, broken, remembering something behind those eyes that I can’t see.
Then another sharp booming sound echoes above.Wood cracks.Metal groans.
Reinforcement is coming.
More men.More knives.More bullets.
I cover the distance to her in two strides and grab her face in both hands.
“Kelly, look at me.”
She does.
“You listen to me right now,” I whisper fiercely.“You remember this, with or without your memories.”
Her breath catches.“I choose you.I love you.Do you hear me?You aren’t alone.You don’t take on blame.You matter and they are the dumb fucks who want to use that in some power play.This isn’t on you.But mark my words, they will pay for what they took from you.”
She shivers under my hands.“I don’t—I can’t?—”
“You can,” I say.“Because you’ve done it before.You fought for yourself.For your life.For us.”
Her lips part.“Us.”
Another memory hits her.
She staggers.
I catch her instantly.
“Oh my God,” she whispers.“I remember, after we ended things, I walked away from you in the bakery.You didn’t chase me.”
I flinch.
“No,” I admit.“I was a coward.”
“And I cried in my car,” she says, voice breaking, “because I loved you and I didn’t know how to tell you without losing myself.”
My heart stops.
She remembers.Her words slam into me like a blow.Then the ceiling above us buckles—not fully, but enough to shower dust and metal fragments over the floor.
We both jump.
It snaps me back into motion.
I grab her hand.“We’re leaving.There’s a tunnel.It comes out near the old quarry.Move.”
“Riot,”
“Stay behind me,” I bark, already tugging her toward the hidden door behind the generator.
But before we reach it, the steel door at the top of the stairs begins to pound.Loud.Rhythmic.Intentional.
Kelly grips my arm.
“Riot, they’re breaking in.”
“I know,” I murmur.
