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Power.

Light.

Heat.

Control.

That gets their attention more than guns. More than death. More than Russ’s body leaking across the tile.

Lyla dips into a dramatic little bow. “And rigged it with explosives. Homemade by yours truly.” She gestures to Clair, who lifts two blood-smeared fingers in a weak little wave.

Yep.

I’m going to marry that woman.

Joanie claps once. “Very artisanal.”

Bryant’s face tightens. “You’re lying.”

Carlos raises the walkie higher. “Try us.”

Lyla’s smile widens. “One word from me, and Carlos tells our good friend Earl to set the timers. If Carlos goes quiet, Earl sets them anyway. If anyone touches that walkie, Earl sets them anyway. If I stop talking before I’m done, Earl sets them anyway. Then your fuel goes boom, your generators go quiet, your lights go out, and everyone in this charming little flesh buffet gets to find out how loyal hungry people are when the meat locker warms up.”

Feet scrape over tile. Someone lowers a bone from their mouth. A whisper moves through the cannibals like smoke.

Not worship.

Not fear.

Questions.

That’s worse for Bryant.

He knows it.

Near the old fountain, one of his men whispers something to the woman beside him. She elbows him hard, but her eyes stay on Bryant. Someone on the upper level mutters, “All of it?” and the words travel fast.

Bryant’s kingdom starts cracking in front of him.

“You won’t have any if you blow it,” Bryant says.

Lyla shrugs. “True. But you won’t have anything either, and I doubt your little cult here will last long without your generators.”

His nostrils flare.

Clair steps forward before Jacob can stop her. She sways once, and my heart nearly tears loose, but she plants her bloody feet and lifts her chin. “You might even be next on the menu if you’re the one responsible for losing all the fuel. Half or nothing. Not a hard decision.”

A smile pulls at my mouth.

That’s my girl.

Hungry faces turn toward Bryant. Not openly hostile yet, but close. Too close for a man who built his power on keeping everyone fed, warm, and afraid of him.

For the first time since we entered this place, he looks trapped by his own people.

My hand flexes at my side, slick with Russ’s blood and my own. I want to end this now. Put a bullet in Bryant’s skull and let the crowd decide whether they still feel brave. But Poppy is shaking. Clair is bleeding. Mom is somewhere behind us in the service hall with Earl. Edith, Luis, and Wesker are back at the vehicles.

Getting out matters more.