She was alive. Thank Christ. “Is she alive?” hissed Michael, edging in from the door. “Stay outside that door. I don’t want us all trapped in here. She’s breathing, but we gotta get her warmed up.” The air wasn’t actually as cold as I’d feared, but her prolonged exposure to it had her core temperature dangerously low. I carefully lifted her in my arms, but before I could take a step, a sound came from somewhere inside the shop. My eyes met Michael’s, and a silent communication passed between us —I would keep Sofia safe; he would handle whatever was up front. I carried her out of the freezer but stayed in the prep room while Michael quietly snuck out to the front counter. Seconds later, gunfire rang out in the small shop—a series of rapid shots shattering the quiet around us. I dropped to a
