The knock reverberated through the dimly lit bunker, sending a wave of dread over Leila. She exchanged a nervous glance with Ethan, who was already reaching for his weapon, eyes narrowed with suspicion. Isabella, pale and wounded, struggled to her feet, her hand gripping her side in pain.
“Stay back,” Ethan whispered, motioning for Leila to move behind the makeshift barricade of crates near the far wall. His voice was calm, but the tension in his eyes told her everything. Whoever was at that door might not leave them any more chances.
Leila pressed herself against the cold concrete wall, her heart racing. Was it Marcus’s men? Had they found the bunker already?
Ethan crept toward the door, his movements silent and calculated. The knock came again, followed by a low, muffled voice. It was
