Angel stood frozen, her wide, tear-filled eyes locked on the group of men huddled near the edge of the clearing. They were setting the final stages of their plan into motion — preparing to bomb the building where Tryson was trapped.
A heavy, unbearable sadness pressed down on her chest, so paralyzing that she couldn't even lift a finger.
Sophia, sensing Angel's desperation, had pinned her tightly against herself, arms like iron bands, trying to restrain her frantic struggles. She knew Angel would bolt if she got the chance — and in doing so, only get herself killed. But the more Angel struggled, the harder she cried, great shuddering sobs racking her small frame as she watched helplessly.
Her gaze drifted back to the building, now looming like a tombstone in her mind. Silent tears streamed down her cheeks, each drop a testament to her despair.
