Too late.
They’re already here.
Boots pound across the floor—fast, controlled, trained.
Not random shooters.
Professionals.
“They breached!” Cal snaps.
“I see that!” I fire back, leaning out just enough—
Two shots.
First hostile drops before he clears the doorway.
Second stumbles—
Mila fires from beside me.
Clean.
Precise.
He goes down.
No wasted movement.
No hesitation.
God, she’s good.
“They’re stacking outside!” Ronan’s voice cuts in. “More incoming!”
Of course there are.
“They’re not here to capture,” Mila says, already reloading. “They’re here to wipe us out.”
I glance at her.
She’s right.
I can feel it.
The way they came in.
The way they’re pushing.
This isn’t containment.
This is termination.
“Hayes,” I mutter.
Mila’s eyes flick to mine.
“He knows,” she says.
