Eve
The chain snapped forward, catching one of the guards at the knees with a sickening thud. He grunted as he hit the ground, cursing loud, but before I could finish the motion, the second one lunged toward me.
"Move—"
> "Now, Evie!" Rhea's voice cracked like a whip in my head, lending a burst of clarity to the haze.
I pivoted, just enough to avoid the full brunt of the impact, but not enough to stop the swing of his baton from catching my ribs. Pain lanced through my side, white-hot and immediate. I gasped and stumbled back.
No room to think.
No time to scream.
The third—someone in the back—shouted, "She's up! Take her down!"
Gunfire.
The first shot rang out, and instinct flared—Rhea pushing reflexes faster than my failing muscles. I dodged the first.
Not the second.
It tore through my shoulder—clean, burning, deep. The impact spun me half around, and I collapsed against the bed with a grunt, my fingers scrabbling for purchase on anything—anything at all.
