Desperate Crossfire

Sloane flung the door open and slid out, crouching low behind a rusted guardrail before sprinting toward the gunshots, every movement economical, lethal, swift.

Gareth followed at her heels, matching her rhythm without a wasted breath.

Still moving, Sloane hissed, “Keep your head. The second this turns uglier than we can handle, fall back to cover—no debate.”

“Understood.”

Yet Gareth knew the trut