"The longer he breathes, the more blood will flow. Every day we wait, more survivors die. We need to decide, are we going to leave Pike alive, or are we going to finish him before it's too late?"
Reid's question lingered in the air unanswered.
The cellar was silent but for the crackle of fire and the Hollow Plains wind sighing through broken beams. Reid's words lingered in the air, heavy, cutting, impossible to ignore.
Jonas sat forward, arms wrapped across his knees, jaw tight. Kara's spear rested across her lap, her fingers drumming against the haft.
Holt leaned against the wall, his expression unreadable, though his eyes flicked between them with sharp calculation.
Travis hunched by the fire, stirring embers with the end of a spoon, his smirk gone. Mira sat still, her quiet presence more felt than seen, wind tugging gently at the loose strands of her hair.
