Chapter 22 · Off-Script Chaos

"Stop talking and start running, Alice!"

Silas’s voice cracked like a whip in my ear. Before I could blink, his hand slammed into my lower back, shoving me hard.

BOOM.

The wall three inches from my head erupted. Concrete and rebar sprayed everywhere. The shockwave rattled my teeth, sending me sprawling across the grit. I didn't even have time to scream before a heavy boot crushed my wrist into the floor.

"Found the little rat," a voice sneered. Raspy. Smelling of cheap tobacco and old blood.

I looked up. Three guys in tactical gear. Matte black masks. The one pinning me down pressed the muzzle of a suppressed pistol into the soft skin of my jaw.

"Where's the High Inquisitor?" the mercenary asked. "He’s not as fast as he used to be. Maybe he’s bleeding out in the hall."

I spat right on his mask.

"He's probably laughing at how slow you are."

He didn't laugh. He slammed the gun harder into my cheek, bruising the bone. "Wrong answer. Maybe we just take the girl. Boss can decide if she's worth more dead or alive."

Then the air shifted. A cold, oppressive pressure flooded the room.