“Everyone inside,” Arker said, already moving, already the version of him that stopped negotiating the second an actual threat entered the equation. “Now. Avery, with Corrine, west corridor, away from the exterior windows.”
I didn’t argue this time. Whatever bravado had carried me into a dark equipment barn alone a week ago had burned off somewhere in the last few days, replaced with a colder, more useful instinct — that some fights were mine to walk into, and some were better served by staying out of the way of people trained to handle them.
Corrine moved fast down the west corridor, radio pressed to her ear, relaying information in clipped fragments I caught in pieces. Four confirmed. Moving slow, not aggressive. No pack markers matching our records. Alina found us halfway there, breat
