My hand presses against my side on top of the gash to stop the blood flow, but the blood seeps through my fingers. It burns, but it’s a different kind of pain. My breathing slows as I stand there, looking at Maya.

The danger has passed, but how soon until more arrives?

She clutches the crowbar like a lifeline, panting for breath as she takes in the state of the hallway. It’s a mess. Blood seems to coat most surfaces. She really shouldn’t be here and should have stayed in the room, but ...