The roar of the gunshot was a physical impact, an acoustic shockwave that violently shattered the suffocating stillness of Warehouse 7. The flash of fire from the muzzle of Marcus’s revolver illuminated the peeling paint on the iron pillars, casting long, monstrous shadows across the damp concrete.
For a fraction of a second, time didn't just slow down; it fractured entirely.
Elena was still rolling across the splintered remains of the wooden pallets where Marcus had brutally hurled her. Her shoulder throbbed, her breath had been completely knocked from her lungs, and her hair hung in wet, tangled strands across her eyes. But as the horrific mechanical *c***k* echoed through the rafters, a violent spike of adrenaline cleared away the pain. She looked through the thick haze of smoke and m
