Page 23 of Lyon

Cyclone hauled Sean back over his shoulder. I turned to Taylor. “Let’s go.”

Before we could move, an explosion rocked the prison. Dust and smoke filled the air.

Farron grinned.

I shot him a look. “What the hell was that?”

“Someone else is breaking out,” he said. “No idea how they got explosives, but hey—it works in our favor. Let’s move.”

Raven had Jason Jones half-dragging behind him. The man looked barely conscious. Without hesitation, Raven slung him over his shoulder and headed toward the exit.

We followed.

Taylor staggered, slamming against the wall. His skin was ashen—he was barely holding on.

I didn’t think. I threw him over my shoulder and pushed forward.

The chaos worked in our favor. Guards were too distracted by the explosion to notice us slipping through the front.

We sprinted for the jeep and piled in. I hit the gas, weaving through the streets, trying to put as much distance between us and that prison as possible.

For a moment, I thought we were clear.

Then—CRACK.

A bullet whizzed past my ear.

“Shit! We’re being fired on!” I shouted. “Get down!”

Cyclone twisted, aimed, and returned fire. Two shots, then a pained yell.

Then silence.

“Cyclone, you good?” I called back. No answer.

“Damn it, Cyclone, answer me!” I shouted.

Raven climbed into the back, carefully lowering Sean to the seat before checking on Cyclone.

“Shit,” Raven cursed. “He’s hit—badly.”

I clenched my jaw. “You need to stop the bleeding.”

“I’m on it,” Raven said. “He’s losing lots of blood.”

“I have the same blood type,” I told him. “Let’s get to the plane before we start a transfusion.”

Raven leaned out and took another shot at the jeep chasing us. I glanced in the rearview mirror just in time to see the vehicle swerve off the road.

Two hours. That’s how long it took to reach the plane—two long, agonizing hours.

The second we landed, we rushed Cyclone inside. Farron sprinted to the cockpit while the rest of us worked on him.

I stretched out beside him, rolling up my sleeve as Raven prepped the transfusion. My blood flowed into Cyclone’s veins, but he still wasn’t waking up.

“Cyclone,” I said, my voice rough. “Wake your ass up. There is no reason for you to still be out cold.”

Nothing.

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