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Far off by the entrance, another man rattled off Spanish.
The men hurried to the back, and then a sudden explosion rocked our world sideways. I was thrown against Kaz, who managed to keep me and his footing despite the blast.
I recovered and got back in my ducking position. Pain shot down my arm—nothing serious, but enough to jolt me back into laser-focus.
However, due to that new bomb, the heat shifted to suffocating, the smoke blinding, and this choking fog thickened, fueling my terror.
Kaz whispered, “We are close.”
“Good.”
Kaz’s grip on my hand tightened even more as he veered us towards the bathrooms.
Six exploded bodies blocked the female’s bathroom as if a line of women had been waiting outside of the door, and when the explosion came, the impact cut them into bits and sprayed them into a heap in front of the door.
Bile rose in my throat.
I stayed with Kaz as we passed.
Up ahead, the men’s room door hung off its hinges, half-obliterated by violence.
Dread washed over me.
What if our only escape route was blocked?
Kaz stopped us. “This will make some noise and signal them, so once we are in, move fast.”
“Got it.”
Kaz moved us forward, faster than when we were in the main room, and once we got close, he didn’t even slow down as he kicked at the remnants of the door with brute force.
I pointed the gun in the other direction just in case masked motherfuckers came our way.
The door gave out easily enough, and we stumbled into a bathroom that looked like it had been pulled straight from a war-torn city.
Thank God. We are going to get out of here.
Chapter thirty-three
The Battle for Survival
Emily
In the bathroom, shattered mirrors caught the dim, flickering lights, casting eerie shadows through the dust-filled room.
Broken pipes jutted out from the walls, spewing water everywhere and turning the floor into a slippery mess.
But there, at the end of all this chaos, were these big windows, already cracked wide open. Despite everything, they looked like our ticket out of this nightmare.
Okay. Thank God.
It also appeared others had already discovered this unlikely escape route because the edges of the windows were jagged, glass shards littering the sill and the floor beneath.
It was clear that the windows hadn’t been gently opened. They had been forcefully broken. Plus, there were signs of struggle and haste—a discarded shoe, a torn piece of fabric caught on a shard of glass, and smudges of dirt or soot on the sill that spoke of hurried exits.
Max, you better had run out this window.
“Aright.” Kaz let go of my hand.
