Andrew’s POV:

The rain hadn’t let up, drumming against the van’s roof as we sped through the city’s dark streets, heading for the hospital the doctor had promised was safe.

Victor lay in the back, strapped to a stretcher, his breathing was weak, his face was pale under the bruises. Emilie sat beside him, her hand clutching his, her eyes red from crying. I was next to her, my bandaged arm throbbing where the bullet had grazed me at the factory, but the real pain was in my chest, ...