“Let me go.” Harper wedged her heels against the thin strip of wood across the threshold.
He didn’t stop but shifted his grip to guide her forward.
“I said let go!” She twisted with everything she had, throwing her weight backward, fingernails gouging his wrist.
Those green eyes locked on her. Calculation moved behind them, happening too fast for her to read.
“The others.” Harper’s voice was raw, scraped from her throat. She gestured back toward the barrack with her free hand. “I can’t leave them.”
“I’m here for you.” No reassurance, only fact.
“I don’t care what your mission is.” Her whole body shook—cold, adrenaline, fear churning in her gut until she thought she might vomit. “I’m not leaving them.”
He stared at her.
Fresh gunfire erupted across the yard.
Harper straightened despite every instinct screaming at her to run, to get away from the guns, the fire and the bodies. Her hands and feet were numb with cold, her heart violent in her chest, but she didn’t care.
“Either we all leave, or—” She sucked in air, lungs shaky. “Or I stay.”
Something exploded to their left. The remaining lights in the compound died.
One of the men in white gear shouted from near the fence. “Pav! We need to move!”
Pav.
The name meant nothing to her. But he responded to it, his head cocking toward the voice, then back to her. His hand remained locked around her wrist.
He could force her. Throw her over his shoulder and run. She couldn’t stop him.
His grip tightened for half a second. Decision moved behind his eyes.
Then his fingers opened. “How many?”
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