But the force between them was too much.
Another explosion rippedthrough the space—louder, closer—sending a shockwave that tore through the crowd like a violent wind.
It hit them full on.
Becca’s body jerked with the impact.
Her grip broke.
Christina’s hand slipped from hers completely.
For a split second, she saw her—eyes wide, terrified, already being pushed away by the surge of bodies moving in the opposite direction.
“Christina!” Becca screamed, the sound ripping from her throat as she tried to lunge forward.
The arm around her tightened instantly.
Unmovable.
“No—no, she’s right there—let me go!” she fought harder now, panic turning sharp, desperate. She hit against him, twisted, reached back again—but it was already too late.
Christina was gone.
Swallowed by the chaos.
The stranger didn’t let up.
If anything, he moved faster.
Becca struggled in his hold, adrenaline still pushing her to fight him, to get back, to fix it—but his grip was solid, controlled, impossible to break.
“Stopfighting,” he said, low and firm.
His voice cut through everything.
Not loud. Not frantic.
Controlled.
Commanding.
It hit her for a second—but it didn’t stop her.
“She’s still in there!” Becca snapped, breathless, frantic. “You’re taking the wrong one—put me down!”
No answer.
Just movement.
He shifted her higher against him, securing her as he pushed into a side corridor, away from the main floor. The noise behind them grew louder—gunfire now, sharp and unmistakable. Alarms screamed overhead. Red lights pulsed against concrete walls as smoke thickened around them.
Becca’s chest heaved, her head spinning as she tried to track everything at once—Christina, the exits, the man carrying her—
Another blast.
Too close.
The impact slammed into them with brutal force, the pressure hitting like a wall. The sound cracked through her skull, sharp and overwhelming.
