Mason
Aria’s fingers grip my tattered shirt close to my waist. My stomach is heavy, my heart beating out of control as my panic continues to rise. Instinctively I grip her boney hips seconds too late. Her weight shifts as she leans to the side, bullets, propelling through the air around her.
“CRASH!” I’ve never been tongue-tied, never at loss for words, even when the pressure was on. Right now, there’s a heavy boulder, slick with slime and sludge lodged in the back of my throat. Getting her name out alone is a massive feat, as time seems to stick in slow motion.
She extends her arm out as far as she can before she chances putting her head in danger, but Father Time isn’t on our side. We only have seconds to make our escape before our cover is gone, our lives with it.
We need to act no
