When Scars saw Viking and Arrow stumbling towards him through the nightmare haze, holding up the butterfly tattoo woman between them, and the two other customers following closely behind, he almost sagged in relief.
“Scars!” Arrow hacked out his name, coughing wildly. “Keira…”
“Where the f**k is she?” Scars grated, his throat already thick with smoke. “And where’s Saint?”
“He went to get her,” Arrow said harshly, his voice raw. “Last I saw, he was heading for the office. But Scars… that’s where the explosion happened. In the back, where Keira was sleeping.”
“Jesus Christ.” Scars was frozen for a second, then he snapped back to the moment. “Get clear. Now.”
“What are you –”
Scars didn’t hear the rest of Arrow’s question, certainly didn’t bother to answer the other man. He was running
