Victor POV
Phew... I finally managed to escape.
That man and his family... damn it. I told them the key was useless, that it wouldn't work. But the truth is—I lied. It can be used. But I won't risk it, not for people I barely know. Not when survival hangs by a thread.
His face when I left them—desperate, pleading. Saying something about coordinates, a safe zone, a place that could change everything. I don't buy it. People will say anything when they're scared, anything to save themselves. Maybe he thought I'd be some hero, but I've seen what that gets people. Dead.
I glance back at Nick. Poor bastard's face is pale, like he's seen a ghost. His hands are trembling, still stained red from what happened back there. He hasn't spoken a word since. I can almost hear his thoughts screaming.
He did what he had to.
We both did.
"Let's get out of here, Nick," I mutter, tugging his arm.
He flinches but follows me.
Alex – POV
Shit.
The noise outside was growing louder by the second—gunshots echoing through the compound, screams cutting through the air, and beneath it all… the sound of them. Shuffling. Groaning. The sick, wet thuds of bodies hitting metal and concrete.
They were here.
Those people with dead eyes.
My daughter Angel clung to her mother, shaking, tears running silently down her face. My wife held her close with one arm while gripping my hand tightly with the other. On my right, my son Ray was trying to stay strong, jaw clenched, eyes darting toward the door. He was scared—I could see it—but he was holding it together better than I expected. He was growing up too fast in this new world.
We were all standing, ready, prepared for anything. Or at least, as ready as anyone could be when the world outside was falling apart.
Suddenly, the main hallway door burst open.
Three figures ran inside—one was an older man, with graying hair and sharp, alert eyes. The second, a woman in her thirties, moved fast and calculated, and the last was a man, lean and tense. They sprinted toward the far cell—the one that belonged to the black man who had just escaped earlier.
The other detainees, sensing a chance, started shouting. "Let us out! Please! We're still in here!"
The trio paused mid-step.
The old man turned back. "We don't have time for this!"
But the woman looked around, scanning faces, ignoring him. "Where's the kid? The boy. Nick."
A woman in the cell beside where the black man had been detained pointed toward the sealed exit. "I heard that name. He left with that tall guy—the black one. They ran that way!"
The woman's eyes narrowed in recognition. "Thank you," she said quickly, then turned and started opening her cell door. The man joined in, unlocking the others. One by one, they freed the detainees, spreading chaos as others rushed to their feet, looking for an escape.
I saw my opportunity.
I grabbed the bars. "Hey! Hey, you!" I shouted.
The old man turned to me, squinting. "Me?"
"Yes, you," I said. "Help us! I've got a family here—my wife, my kids. I can take you somewhere safe. A secure place. I have connections."
He hesitated, clearly weighing options in his head. "How do I know you're not lying to me?"
"You don't," I said flatly. "You just have to trust me. What other choice do you have?"
He glanced at my wife holding our daughter close, then at my son standing tall beside me. Something in his eyes softened, and I knew I'd gotten through.
After a short pause, he nodded. "Alright. I'll trust you—for now."
He stepped forward and reached into his backpack, pulling out a metal pipe with a notched hook welded crudely to the end. "Let's open this bastard."
A few quick movements and clink—our cell door creaked open.
I stepped out immediately, relief crashing over me like a wave. "Thank you."
"The name's Daniel," he said, tossing the makeshift tool to the side. "You better not make me regret this."
"You won't," I replied. "I'm Alex Caruso. And if we survive this mess, I'll owe you."
Thank God. Finally. Let's go," I said, turning to my wife and children. "Stay behind me."
The gun I had with me was gone—confiscated by those damn army bastards. I felt naked without it.
I noticed Daniel scanning the area like he was looking for someone.
"Daniel, who are you looking for?" I asked.
"A kid. His name's Nick. He's Madison's son."
"Who's this?" a man asked, stepping forward.
"Travis, this is Alex and his family," Daniel explained. "Alex, this is Travis and Madison. They're coming with us. Alex said he knows a secure location."
At that, both Travis and Madison looked at me briefly. Then Madison said urgently, "We don't have time for this. Let's go."
We all rushed toward the door where that Black man and the kid had gone through earlier. Huh. So that kid was her son. Interesting.
Well, well, well… I might be willing to forgive the boy. But that man? Not so easily.
"Stay close," I told my family as we picked up the pace—practically running now.
We soon ran into a young woman—Daniel's expression changed instantly.
"Ofelia," he breathed. "My daughter."
She looked broken, her eyes hollow.
"She's grieving," Daniel whispered to me. "Her mother just passed."
I felt a sudden wave of pity. Poor girl. No one deserved to go through that.
Then, a loud shout echoed from behind another door—muffled, but intense. I paused.
That voice…
I grinned faintly.
Heh. That's the Black guy and that kid.
Karma's a bitch, huh?
Then Madison seemed to recognize her son's voice. She suddenly burst through the door—and there he was in the window of the door. Her son, standing next to a Black man. "Nick! Nick!" she cried out.
"Mom! Mom!" Nick shouted back, overwhelmed with emotion.
Travis immediately sprang into action, rushing forward to open the door wide. I stood slightly behind him, a small smile tugging at my lips.
As the Black man beside Nick locked eyes with me, his expression shifted—his face darkened, brows furrowed. He clearly recognized me. The boy beside him also stared, stunned. He hadn't expected to see me here, standing with my family.
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