They were herding us

The air was thick with smoke, the scent of burning wood and gasoline choking Nathan's lungs as he pushed himself up from the wreckages. His ears rang, the muffled echoes of gunfire still dancing in the distance. For a heartbeat, he couldn't tell if the warmth on his face was blood or sweat.

Then—Scarlett's voice.

"Nathan! Nathan, where's Mom?!"

He staggered to his feet, eyes sweeping the devastation. Chunks of concrete littered the lot, and the wreckage of their vehicle still burnt. Henry and Richard were pinned down, shielding Ellen behind a shattered piece of the vehicle.

But it wasn't just the explosion clouding his mind. Through the haze, standing tall and composed, was Morrison.

She emerged from the smoke as if untouched. The click of her heels against broken glass echoed louder than the distant sirens.

Nathan's blood boiled.

"Morrison," he growled, leveling his weapon toward her.

She didn't flinch.