The Night Isn’t Over

The explosion shattered the night, ripping through the silence with a deafening roar. Nathan's ears rang as he ducked behind an overturned table, his shoulder colliding with the hard wood.

"Get to the back entrance!" Morrison barked.

Nathan peeked around the edge of the table. Figures in tactical gear swarmed through the breach in the nearby building, their movements coordinated and efficient. These weren't ordinary thugs; their precision was unnerving.

"Henry, cover me!" Nathan shouted; his voice hoarse.

Henry, crouched behind a shattered window frame, nodded sharply. He raised his weapon and fired a volley, forcing the intruders to dive for cover. Morrison, dragging Paul behind her, moved quickly toward the kitchen.

"Move!" Morrison ordered; her jaw clenched. She shoved Paul toward Nathan. "Get him downstairs! Now!"

Nathan grabbed Paul's arm, the man's weight sagging heavily against him. "Henry, go with them! I'll—"