I froze as I watched the silhouettes fall on the shattered glass door. The dying sunlight glinted off their weapons.
My pulse hammered in my ears as I shared a quick glance with Cooper. Each of us carefully planning our next move.
"Stay low," Ronan instructed.
I crouched behind a counter smeared with blood. The crunch of broken glass under deliberate footsteps filled the silence.
A leader emerged from the group, a broad-shouldered man with scars etched deep into his face. His eyes seemed hard and wary.
He stopped at the threshold, scanning the interior as if weighing our worth.
"Identify yourselves!" He barked, his voice rough and unforgiving. "This isn't a safe haven for drifters."
Ronan stepped into the flickering light.
My eyes widened by his actions. What the hell is he doing.
He raised his hands in a gesture of peace.