We move fast through the main room—empty—then into a smaller back space just as the drone’s light sweeps past the windows.
Too exposed.
Too open.
I scan once—
—and spot it.
A narrow storage space. Half-collapsed door. Barely big enough for one person.
Perfect.
I grab her again and pull her toward it.
“This is your plan?” she hisses.
“Do you have a better one?”
She doesn’t answer.
Because she doesn’t.
We squeeze inside.
And yeah.
This is a mistake.
Not tactically.
That part’s solid.
Everything else?
Not so much.
The space is tight. Cramped. Barely enough room to stand shoulder to shoulder.
Except we’re not shoulder to shoulder.
We’re—
Closer.
Her chest brushes mine with every breath.
Her hand is still braced against my arm.
Her leg—
Yeah.
I go still.
So does she.
Outside, the drone passes again.
