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But they’re closing in.
Too many.
Too fast.
A shot grazes my arm.
Pain flares.
Hot.
Sharp.
I grit my teeth.
Keep moving.
Another shot—
Closer this time.
I drop behind the wrecked SUV.
Breathing hard.
Calculating.
No clean way out.
And Ford?
Still standing.
Still watching.
Like he’s waiting.
That’s when I realize—
This was never about killing me.
It was about taking me alive.
My stomach drops.
“No,” I whisper.
Too late.
A hand grabs my arm—
yanks me back hard.
My weapon is ripped from my grip.
I twist.
Fight.
