Kiren doesn’t look away from me when he answers. “Clear the corridor. Now.”
The man nods and moves.
Around us, the remaining violence begins to collapse under the force of Kiren’s men, closing the distance. Another enforcer goes down near the loading bay. Someone shouts that the west side is clear. Another voice calls for medics.
“Take me to her,” he instructs.
Kiren keeps one hand at the center of my back as we move through the warehouse. He isn’t pushing me forward or rushing my steps, but the firm pressure of his palm keeps me moving beside him, close enough that I can feel the heat of him through the layers of my coat. The contact tells me everything I need to know. He’s making sure I stay on my feet, and he’s making sure I don’t slip out of reach again.
I keep my eyes forward, refusing to look too closely at the crimson stains smeared across the floor. Kiren’s hand neverleaves my back. The corridor to our room feels narrower now than it did when I was dragged through it. Part of that is the adrenaline still working through my bloodstream, the violent crash of it not yet gone, and the memory of Lila still inside that room, injured and alone, while everything outside it came apart.
“She’s at the end of this hall,” I murmur, my throat dry enough that the words scrape on the way out.
Kiren inclines his head once, already following the direction I’m pointing before I finish indicating it. Mikel moves ahead of us, his weapon raised, clearing the hallway in a careful sweep that leaves very little to chance. He pauses at the door and glances back toward Kiren.
Kiren’s hand leaves my back only long enough for him to draw his weapon fully.
“Open it.”
Mikel steps forward and drives the butt of his rifle into the lock. The metal gives with a sharp crack, and the door swings inward.
Lila is sitting on the edge of the cot with one hand pressed against her bandage and the other gripping the mattress hard enough that her knuckles have blanched. The sight of her face when she realizes it’s us and not another guard is one I think I’ll remember for a long time. Relief moves through her so quickly that it almost looks like pain at first. Her mouth parts, her shoulders drop, and her eyes close for half a second before she opens them again, as though she doesn’t trust what she’s seeing.
“Jesus,” she breathes.
I move toward her immediately, but Mikel gets there first. He crouches in front of her, one knee pressed against the concrete.His eyes move over the bandage at her side, the color in her face, and the careful way she’s holding herself in one quick assessment.
“Can you walk?” he asks.
Lila releases a shaky breath. “That depends how charitable you’re feeling.”
It’s such a Lila answer that something in me loosens despite everything that has happened tonight.
Mikel doesn’t smile. His eyes move once more to the blood darkening the bandage before he straightens. “Then we’re moving,” he tells her.
He stands and slips an arm carefully beneath Lila’s shoulders. Kiren moves in on the other side without a word, bracing her as she rises from the cot. Lila inhales sharply when they lift her, her hand pressing instinctively against the bandage at her ribs.
I reach for her wrist more because I need the contact than because it accomplishes anything useful. Her skin is cold. Not dangerously so, but colder than it should be.
She turns her hand and grips my fingers briefly. “You’re okay,” she murmurs, almost disbelieving.
“I’m fine.” My voice tightens around the lie, and I clear my throat before continuing. “You’re the one who got shot.”
“Technically grazed.”
“You’re not arguing technicalities with me right now.”
That nearly earns a real laugh from her, but she presses her lips together against it, her breath catching in her throat as pain reminds her exactly where she is.
Kiren and Mikel keep her balanced between them as she finds her footing. She leans into their support but manages to stay on her feet.
Kiren’s attention drops briefly to the bandage at her ribs before returning to her face. “Can you make it to the vehicle?” he asks.
Lila lifts her chin slightly, stubbornness returning in a faint spark. “I’ll manage.”
“Good,” Kiren answers evenly. “Because we’re leaving now.”
By the time we step back into the corridor, the warehouse feels like a different place. The panic is gone. What remains is the aftermath.
