Kaylan rushed toward me, grabbing my shoulders, but I couldn’t hear what she was saying. It was just noise. Everything was noise.
Zane moved fast. He was on the floor beside me in seconds, pulling me into his arms.
I collapsed into his chest like something lifeless.
He held me tight, kissed the top of my head, over and over.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry. Amelia, I’msosorry.”
I shook harder. My fingers curled into his shirt, clutching it.
Kaylan was behind me now, one hand rubbing my back. Her voice soft, steady, but I couldn’t make out the words.
Logan sat frozen, eyes glassy. Red-rimmed. His hands clenched on his knees like he didn’t know what to do with them.
No one did.
Because Squad Six wasn’t just wounded anymore.
It was bleeding out.
And I felt it in my bones.
The truth of it.
I looked up at the hollow room, at the ashes of who we once were.
This was the death of Squad Six.
THIRTY-NINE
Kabir
I groaned.
Every inch of my body flaring with pain. Muscles stiff. Ribs aching. My head felt like it had been used for batting practice.
Fuck.
Where the hell was I?
I tried to move—but something jerked me back.
A hand gripped my jaw, forcing my head up with a sharp snap of motion.
I cracked one eye open.
A man stood inches from my face, his smile wide and unnatural. East Asian. Mid-50s, maybe. Neatly combed hair. Wire-rimmed glasses perched too perfectly on the bridge of his nose. His suit hung awkwardly on him—expensive but a size too big, like it belonged to someone else.
Fake charm, real menace.
“Good morning, Kabir!” he chirped, his Chinese accent sharp but cheerful.
It hit me immediately.
“Gao Ling,” I rasped, barely managing the name. An educated guess. But the flicker in his eyes told me I was right.
I forced my gaze to scan the room.