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“They’re herding us,” Mila says, right on my shoulder.
“Yeah.”
Gunfire cracks—controlled, deliberate. Not trying to hit.
Trying to steer.
I grab her hand this time instead of her arm.
Faster.
Stronger.
More control.
She doesn’t fight me.
That’s new.
We break toward a low structure half-buried into the hillside.
Concrete.
Old.
Military, maybe.
Or storage.
Doesn’t matter.
It’s cover.
I shove the rusted door open and pull her inside just as another flare lights up the ridge behind us.
Darkness swallows us.
Then—
Silence.
Not empty.
Not safe.
Just—
Waiting.
I shut the door quietly behind us and listen.
No footsteps yet.
But they’re coming.
“They know we’re here,” Mila says.
“Yeah.”
