We crouched on the roof of the lift—the one about to drop. When Ashur shifted his weight, the car jolted, then went still again.
Voices echoed outside the shaft.
He slid into the dark beside me and growled, low and calm,
'The corridor barricade's gone. They're coming.'
From below, the doctor started shouting—loud enough to draw his men towards him.
My fingers, stiff and weak, clawed at the cables. I squinted through the dark at Ashur's brutal profile. My breath came in ragged bursts; his was slow, measured—as if this were nothing.
'You know we might die, right?' My voice shook, sharp with nerves.
We sat hip to hip on the roof. My hands were ice. My shoulders wouldn't stop trembling.
'You ready?' His voice was cold and certain.
I braced one hand on the hatch rim so I wouldn't slip. Heart in my mouth, I whispered, 'Ready.'
With my free hand I drew my gun and sighted the cable drum.
Ashur aimed for the same spot.
Boots thundered somewhere below. The doctor kept yelling for them to get the doors open.
We fired together. Muzzle flashes split the dark, white-hot and blinding.
The drum shredded with a metallic scream. The car lurched hard. I lost balance—but before I could fall, Ashur caught my wrist and yanked me in, slamming me against his chest. His other arm locked tight around my waist.
Cables tore free with a sick sound. A shower of sparks—and then Ashur's profile, lit in slices.
Gravity took us.
The lift dropped.
Metal shrieked against concrete; sparks spat everywhere. I couldn't even scream. I clung to the hatch lip with everything I had while Ashur's arm coiled round my waist like a snake, crushing me to him.
We were falling so fast the steel scraped along the shaft walls, throwing sparks and a noise that drilled straight through bone. The sparks kissed my hands, stinging, but adrenaline turned it into a crawl of ants across my skin.
My hair whipped my face; I didn't breathe for the whole drop.
It happened too fast to blink.
Impact felt like an explosion—an earthquake trapped in a box. The car hit bottom, a wave of dust punched up, and the world went sideways.
Pain ricocheted through me. If Ashur hadn't held on, I'd have dropped through and ended up a well-done steak.
The jolt smashed me into the roof. Air vanished from my lungs.
Gasping, clutching my chest, I rolled.
Smoke swallowed everything. A hand clamped my waist and hauled me towards the hatch.
In Ashur's arms I was a child, small and useless, knees tucked up, fingers shaking as I clung to his neck.
I couldn't stop shivering. Couldn't feel much of anything.
He kept me tight against him, leant over the opening, and looked down.
I started coughing—hard. My throat burned. No air.
He set me down gently by the hatch. I doubled over, hacking, clawing at my ribs for breath.
He turned to me—his face a blur—and then dropped through the opening.
I dragged myself to the hatch and peered after him, eyes streaming. A beat later his voice came up, clipped and steady:
'Come down.'
Still coughing, half blind, I swung my legs through. The leg that had taken a bullet felt like stone—no pain now, just dead weight.
His hands found my waist. He lowered me the rest of the way.
As he pulled me in, he murmured against the noise, words broken by dust and breath:
'N—new update—the doctor… isn't here.'
I blinked, stunned. While we were shredding the drum, they must've prised the doors open and dragged him out.
Damn it. We should've finished him earlier.
I ground my teeth. 'Screw him.' The words came out thin, breathless. I latched onto Ashur's shoulder and forced the rest: 'Damn him.'
With a hard shove, Ashur forced the crumpled lift doors wider.
The landing beyond was wrecked—broken stone, twisted metal. He carried me anyway, step by step, like I weighed nothing.
Anger chewed through what was left of my fear. I didn't just hate the doctor. It was personal—a different breed of hate. Endless.
'We… should've killed him sooner.' My voice frayed as he dragged me out of the dust-choked car.
Burnt air and smoke had turned the car park into a grey void. My eyes watered; everything blurred.
He snorted—a sharp, mocking sound—still holding me up as if I were nothing.
'Let me remind you… you're the reason we didn't.'
He wasn't wrong. This one was on me.
I tried to breathe, tried to make it gentle, but my throat and nose were on fire. Blood dripped from my leg onto gritty concrete, and our footsteps echoed off the pillars.
I blinked until the shapes sharpened: rows of cars, and a closed roller shutter at the far end.
Union forces would be here any minute.
And then we'd be in real trouble.