Carl's pulse thundered in his ears, loud enough to drown out thought. Every muscle in his body stayed coiled, ready to snap. The only other sound was the drip of water somewhere in the dark—slow, deliberate, like a countdown.
Drip.
Drip.
Then—
Adira moved.
One second she was still, the next she was behind Vivian's companion, her arm locked around his chest as her pistol flashed. The barrel kissed the side of his head, pressing in.
"Let us go," Adira said evenly, her eyes cold and unblinking,
"or your friend here gets his brains blown out."
The man froze. His breath hitched.
The gunmen across the room stiffened, weapons snapping upward— then hesitating.
Vivian frowned.
Carl risked a glance at her. For a fraction of a second, their eyes met. Her stare was sharp, deliberate. Calculating. Like she already knew how this would end.
