The gunshot was sharp, a deafening crack that sent a shockwave through the room. Pope’s head snapped back, a neat hole opening in the center of his forehead. His body crumpled to the ground with a heavy thud. For a moment, the only sound was the faint hum of adrenaline in my ears and the slow drip of blood hitting the concrete.
Then chaos exploded around us.
Talon slid a knife from his pocket and cut the ropes from my wrists. He grabbed my elbow like a vice as he pulled me toward the door. “Move!” he barked, his voice sharp and urgent. I stumbled after him, my heart pounding in my chest.
The hallway was a battleground, bodies scattered on the floor, some moaning, some lifeless. The air reeked of sweat, blood, and gunpowder. A cacophony of gunfire and shouts filled the air.
Somewhere in
