A thousand fractured shards of glass split the burning yard into jagged fragments, my own wide, unblinking reflection trapped in every sharp edge—staring back at the death that had barely missed me.
The pane starred again.
Six inches lower. A clean, pinpoint impact.
Then a third.
Pop. Pop.
The shots landed soft, almost sterile in the quiet room, the muted sound a cruel contrast to the thunderous rifle crack that rolled off the dark ridgeline a heartbeat later, swallowing all lingering noise.
“Down! Get down!”
Leah’s scream tore through the static-thick air, raw and feral. She snagged the back of my collar in a brutal, desperate grip, yanking me downward. Our bodies crashed hard into the gritty concrete floor, sheltering behind the reinforced bank of consoles—our only fragile barrier
