Chapter 43

Under The Weight Of It All.

The rubble scraped my arms raw as 1 clawed through it, a twisted mess of rebar and concrete refusing to give an inch. Matten was beside me, just as desperate, both of us covered in dust and blood and still pushing forward. Every groan of shifting debris was a warning and a promise, either they were alive under there, or we were too late.

“Sage!” I shouted again, coughing as my voice kicked up more dust. No answer. Just more silence and smoke.

Then I heard footsteps. Not from under the rubble. From behind us. Matteo froze, back straightening. I turned, slow, my gut already coiling. The kind of dread you only feel when you know, really know you’re about to be outgunned. Mirov. Clean-cut suit, not a single speck of ash on him, flanked by a squad of heavily armed bastards like they were walking a red carpet instead of stepping over bodies. His smile was cold and measured, a goddamn viper in human skin.

“Well, well,” Mirov drawled in that thick, condescending accent. “Digging graves already?”

I didn’t hesitate. I pulled my sidearm and fired first. The air shattered with gunfire. Concrete exploded. Matteo tackled into cover, dragging me with him as bullets rained down. It was chaos, raw, brutal, bloody. I caught sight of Mirov ducking behind a collapsed column, barking orders. Two of his men flanked left. I popped out and took one down with a clean headshot. Matteo clipped the other with a burst from his rifle, sending the bastard tumbling.

“You got a plan?” Matteo shouted over the gunfire.