Olivia closes her eyes.
When she opens them again, there’s fury there. And grief. And resignation so sharp it almost feels like another weapon in the room.
She rises.
“If I come,” she says, “we take as many children as we can.”
I look at Lucas.
He already knows what I’m thinking.
This isn’t the mission.
This complicates everything.
This could get all of us killed.
But then I look around the room.
At the burned little boy trying not to cry.
At the teenager fighting to stay conscious on a cot made from doors and blankets.
At the mothers who know exactly what men like the ones outside will do if they break through.
And I think about public executions. About mass graves. About headlines that never tell the whole story.
“How many can move?” I ask.
Olivia blinks. “What?”
“How many can travel without dying on the way?”
For the first time since I walked in, she looks at me like I’m human.
“Maybe eight,” she says. “Ten if we carry two of them.”
Miles glances back. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope,” I say.
Clay grins once, sharp and savage. “Now it’s fun.”
Lucas is already adjusting routes in his head. “We’ll need transport.”
“Then we steal some.”
The building shakes with nearby gunfire.
Decision made.
“Tell the mothers to choose the weakest who can still survive the trip,” I say. “Fast.”
Olivia doesn’t move.
I step closer. “Doctor.”
Her gaze snaps to mine.
