The red dot on Vance’s chest was a silent scream, a promise of sudden, violent finality. For three heartbeats, no one moved. Then, with a roar that felt like it came from the earth itself, Silas lunged. He didn't go for his gun; he grabbed a heavy steel welding screen and slammed it across the open doorway, blocking the line of sight just as a suppressed thwip sounded from the darkness. A spark danced off the metal—a high-velocity round meant for a kill.
"Lights out!" Vance barked.
Silas smashed the overhead fluorescent with the butt of his pistol, plunging the garage into a chaotic symphony of shadows and moonlight filtering through the high, grimy windows.
In the sudden dark, Macy’s voice rose in a frantic, jagged pitch. She was hyperventilating, her words tumbling out in a stream of
