Andrew Stalon's boots hammered against the creaking wooden stairs, each step groaning under his weight. His breath hitched, heavy and uneven, thanks to the pizzas he’d scarfed down earlier—not fully digested and now a burden, making every movement sluggish. The sound of his labored breaths echoed in his ears, mingling with the relentless pounding of footsteps behind him, sharp, determined, and closing in fast.
Time wasn’t on his side. He couldn’t afford to join the chaos on the ground floor where Killian, Vischa, and Sophia were fighting for their lives, facing an onslaught of heavily armed mercenaries. No, he needed to divide their attackers, split them into two groups. With that plan in mind, Andrew charged up the stairs at full speed, luring four pursuers onto the second floor.
Gunfir
