Page 67 of Glass Rose
“Promise me,” I growl.
She nods once. “I promise.”
It’s a lie. I can see it in her eyes, feel it in the tremble of her body against mine. But it’s enough for now. Enough to let me do what needs to be done.
FIFTEEN
SOFIA
Gavin’s kiss lingers on my forehead like a brand as he turns away, his broad shoulders tense with the weight of what’s about to happen. My fingers curl at my sides, itching to grab him, to draw him back to me, to find another way that doesn’t involve splitting up.
But there is no other way. No magical solution that keeps us all safe, together.
This is survival. Messy, brutal, and unfair.
“Sofia.” Min-Ji hands me one of the emergency backpacks. “We need to move. Now.”
Right. Escape plan. SUVs. Rendezvous point.
I shove my gun into the waistband of my jeans, the metal cold against my lower back. I don’t know if I’m ready to shoot a human, but… My grandfather’s hunting knife remains strapped to my thigh, a constant reminder of what I’ve already lost and what I’m still fighting to keep.
“Stay close,” Marcus says. “Move fast.”
Min-Ji nods. Her pristine lab coat is gone, replaced by cargo pants and a dark jacket that somehow is stillmeticulously pressed despite everything. Even facing death, she maintains standards.
“They’ll be coming through the main entrance any minute.” I take a deep breath.
A deafening boom rips through the warehouse, the concrete floor shuddering beneath my feet. Shelves rattle violently, sending items crashing to the floor while dust cascades from above.
The diversion has begun.
“That’s our cue,” Marcus shouts over the ringing in my ears. “Go!”
We move as one, crouching low as we navigate the maze of shelving units. Another explosion rocks the building, this time closer. The crack of gunfire follows.
My heart squeezes.
What if those blue eyes never look at me again, those hands never touch my skin, those lips never?—
“That’s right, you corporate fucks!” John’s voice booms from the entrance. “Welcome to my house!”
Marcus takes point, rifle raised, checking each corner before waving us forward. The air grows thick with smoke—acrid, chemical, burning my lungs with each inhale, and my eyes water. It’s like we’re back at the facility, running for our lives.
“Down!” Marcus yanks Min-Ji to the floor as bullets pierce through the shelf above us, sending splinters of wood and metal raining down on our heads.
I plant my forehead against the cold concrete, arms covering my head as chaos erupts around us. It’s not just gunfire anymore, but screams. The kind that tears from a human throat when pain exceeds language.
“Alternate route,” Min-Ji says. “Through the storage area. Follow me.”
She leads us down a narrow corridor formed by stackedcrates of survival supplies. John’s obsessive preparations now guide our escape… how fucking ironic. I crawl after her, palms collecting grit and splinters I’m too wired to feel.
The east service door, a small metal rectangle, is illuminated by an exit sign that flickers like a dying firefly. So close. Just a few more meters through hell, and we might actually make it.
Marcus reaches it first, molding his back to the wall beside it as he peers through the small reinforced window. “Clear. But we’ll be exposed the moment we step outside.”
Easy targets. Fish in a bowl. Dead if we’re not fast enough.
“On three.” Marcus grabs the push bar. “One. Two?—”
