“Because if they were, they wouldn’t be trying to kill me.”
That’s useful information.
The flashlights move closer.
One beam sweeps across the hallway entrance.
We flatten against the wall.
A man steps into the corridor.
Tall.
Tactical gear.
Suppressed rifle.
Not local law enforcement.
He pauses.
Listening.
I glance at Mara.
She mouths silently.
Three.
Footsteps behind the first man.
Two more.
They’re clearing rooms.
Methodically.
Professionally.
And getting closer every second.
The lead man takes another step down the hallway.
Five feet from where we’re standing.
Mara raises her pistol slightly.
I shake my head.
Too loud.
Too messy.
She understands immediately.
The man turns his flashlight toward our door.
And in that exact moment—
