And they won’t.
Not yet.
I slip my hand to the comm at my throat, thumb hovering, then lowering again.
No alarms.
No warnings.
Just action.
Two minutes to get everyone out.
Two minutes to outrun hell.
And I intend to make every second count.
City’s voice reaches me through the ringing in my ears. “Jesus, Pres… you scared the hell outta me.”
I try to laugh, but it comes out as a wet cough. “Always like to keep things interestin’.”
The pain in my side is intense, but I’ve had worse. I brace against the wall, trying to catch my breath. My hand instinctively goes to the knife, and I feel the warm, sticky blood seeping through my fingers.
My mind races through the options, and they all lead to the same conclusion. If I tell my brothers about the bomb right now, they’ll try to help me. They’ll waste precious seconds trying to get me out, and they’ll all die with me.
The women will die.
Everyone will die.
Unless I keep my mouth shut and buy them the time they need to escape.
“Get the women… out,” I tell City, fighting to keep my voice steady. “I’ll be there… in a sec… just need… to catch my breath.”
00:01:32
City starts toward me, and I hold up my hand to stop him. “VP, it’s your job to get those women out. I just need… a second. Focus on the job… we came here to do.”
“I can do both. Help you and them—”
“That’s an order, brother,” I say firmly, putting every ounce of presidential authority into my voice.
00:01:00
I see the hesitation hit him hard.
Bayou’s head pops down from above, water dripping from his hair as he peers at me. “Everything good?” he asks, eyes already searching for damage.
“Yeah,” City answers before I can. Too fast. Too forced.
I watch the guilt eat at him, see the way he swallows it down because that’s what we do. He grits his teeth, hesitates a few seconds longer than he wants to, then turns and moves, barking orders as he pushes the women forward.
Just like I told him to.
Just like he always does.
The seconds are bleeding out.
I feel it now, even without looking. Somewhere deep inside these walls, the countdown ticks on, silent and merciless, every second tightening around my chest like a vice.
