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I tackled the guard.

We hit the ground hard, his armor gouging at my ribs. I clung to his wrist, forcing the rifle sideways. The shot tore the air past my scalp, a heat-line of pain across my skin. I didn’t stop. My nails raked his face, my knees drove into his gut, my whole body a weapon.

The fight blurred to bone and metal and breath. The stock of the rifle cracked under my grip, his visor shattered, his breath gurgled against my ear. I ripped the weapon away, flipped it, and drove the butt into his temple. The helmet cracked. The wet sound after was final.

I rolled off him, chest heaving, rifle aimed. No more threats. Just Stitch—kneeling in the dust, blood spattered across her face, eyes wide on me.

For a heartbeat, we only stared. Then her mouth split into a wild, bloody grin.

“Jesus, doc, you look like shit,” she laughed, half-sob, half-mania. “The second I heard those alarms, I knew it had to be you. Nobody else in this shithole has the brains—or the balls.”

She grabbed my hand, squeezed hard enough to hurt. Then she let go, gesturing to the old men behind her. “They can’t move fast. If we don’t get them out, they’re dead.”

I nodded. “We stick together. Head for the breach behind the generator. If we move now⁠—”

Kang appeared at my shoulder, eyes blazing. His jaw was tight, the line of his scar standing out sharp against his skin.

“What the fuck was that?” he hissed, anger searing through the words. “You break from me again, you don’t come back. You’ll get yourself killed.”

I almost snapped back, but then I saw it—his anger wasn’t only fury. It was fear. Fear for me.

He followed my gaze to Stitch, to the old men still crouched behind the barrier. Understanding flickered. His eyes softened, the fight draining out of his shoulders. He shook his head, almost at himself, then looked back at me with something closer to resignation than rage.

“You’re impossible,” he muttered, voice low, but no longer sharp.

I only stared back, jaw set. “We wont leave them.”

His mouth twitched like he might argue again. But he didn’t.

Kang slid ahead of me, his Authority instincts taking over, scanning every angle as we cut toward the generator shed. Stitch stayed tight to my flank, dragging one of the old men with surprising strength, the others shuffling after like ghosts forced back into flesh.

The courtyard was alive with gunfire and screams, the sound bouncing off steel and stone until it became one endless roar. Every flash of light, every ricochet, was another coin toss with death.

We hugged the edge of the shed, smoke stinging our eyes. The hum of the generators thrummed through the walls like a second heartbeat. Kang kept his weapon raised, his back to us, jaw locked. Every time I glanced at him, I saw the shadow of that earlier fury still burning under his skin—but now tempered, controlled, bent into something almost protective.

At the far end of the shed, the perimeter fence sagged inward, half-cut. A gap. A chance.

“We go now,” I whispered.

Stitch nodded, then dove first, dragging the nearest old man through. He whimpered, but she didn’t let go. The others followed, ducking low. Kang held the wire apart with bare hands, face twisted with the effort, eyes flicking back toward me.

“You coming?” he snapped.

I started forward—but the shot slammed into the fence inches from my head. Sparks and metal shrapnel exploded against my face. I hit the dirt, rolled, then shoved myself through the opening, dragging the rifle behind me.

On the other side, everything changed.

The noise of the yard dulled, smothered by the wall and smoke. The ground turned to mud, sucking at our boots. Stitch and the old men were already in the drainage ditch, pressed low against the concrete lip. Kang came last, vaulting the fence like it was nothing, his landing fluid, predatory. He fired a burst back over the wall, then dropped beside me, breath hot in the cold air.

We crawled along the ditch, each meter stolen under the hiss of bullets striking above. My arms shook so hard I nearly dropped the rifle, but adrenaline kept me moving. At the bend, out of sight of the yard, we collapsed into a heap of breathless bodies.

Stitch rolled onto her back, laughing and crying all at once. “We did it. Shit, doc—we fucking did it.”

I wanted to believe her.

But my brain was already calculating the next threats: drones, dogs, search parties. The Authority didn’t leave holes without filling them with teeth.

Kang’s gaze caught mine. His eyes were still sharp, but softer now than I’d ever seen them. “You’ never fail to surprise me,” he said quietly.