In Frostholm, sudden gunshots rang out in the quiet school—each one a terrifying jolt, echoing in Josselyn's chest like a death knell.
She tensed up, pressing firmly on the bleeding wound in Frederick's abdomen as she bandaged it.
Frederick's face was pale, his voice weak. "I already called the nearest peacekeeping team for backup. Later, I'll draw them away from the front. You take the kids and leave through the back to meet up with them."
Just moments earlier, enemy soldiers had suddenly opened fire on her.
It was Frederick who'd fought back relentlessly, throwing himself in front of her to take the bullet at the last second.
Josselyn's voice was firm. "You got hurt saving me. I'll draw them away—I'll buy us time."
She turned to leave.
"Don't..." He grabbed her wrist, his grip sur
