The words were barely out of Desmond’s mouth when the first crash rattled through the paper-thin walls of the motel.
“They’ve found us.”
Noah’s head snapped up, his body already shifting into motion. The old lamp beside the bed trembled, the single lightbulb flickering as if even it sensed what was coming.
“How many?” Noah’s voice was sharp, clipped, already the soldier, already calculating.
Desmond’s jaw clenched. He’d barely had time to catch his breath from warning us. “At least three cars maybe more but they looked armed.”
My stomach twisted. I could hear it now, doors slamming outside, heavy boots thudding against concrete, the low murmur of men speaking in clipped tones. The sound carried through the thin motel walls, closer with every second.
The weight of the document bag sat
