The crack of wood against the wall jolted the air like a gunshot.

  “GET DOWN! NOW! NOBODY MOVE!”

  The voice was sharp, commanding, and female.

  Nowak froze, blinking stupidly toward the door.

  A blonde girl stood framed in the entry, gun raised, both hands steady on the grip. Her warm blonde hair caught the low light, sharp against the dark room. The pistol’s sight glinted as it trained on Nowak’s sweating forehead.

  Behind her, the men outside were suddenly exposed—hulking shapes caught mid-step, startled by the intrusion. They dropped instinctively, hands raised, sprawling on the dusty floorboards at her barked command.

  Kazou’s body twitched faintly on the floor, still bound, chest stuttering with shallow, frantic breaths. His eyes fluttered open—dazed, blurred shapes sharpening just enough for him to see the gun aimed over him, the trembling figure of Nowak finally robbed of his sermon.

  “Step away from him!” the blonde girl’s voice cracked through the room like glass. Her gun didn’t waver. Her eyes—wide, burning, terrified but firm—locked onto Nowak. “I swear, I’ll shoot. Get away from the scientist!”

  Nowak blinked at her, the sweat dripping from his brow catching the dim light. Slowly, mockingly, he lifted his hands from the pool cue, the wood clattering beside Kazou’s bruised face.

  “Easy… easy now,” he said, his voice dripping false calm. “Little dove, you don’t belong here. Guns like that don’t fit in a girl’s hands. You’ll only hurt yourself.”

  The girl’s jaw clenched. She took one sharp step forward, her voice cracking louder, trembling but deadly serious.

  “Shut up! Don’t you move closer! Don’t talk to me like that—I’ll pull the trigger, I mean it!”

  Nowak chuckled, low and bitter. He tilted his head, as though humoring a child.

  “Put it down, girl. You don’t want blood on your pretty hands. Men like him—” he jabbed his chin toward Kazou, who was struggling to breathe on the floor—“men like him aren’t worth saving. He’s a liar, a foreign rat who sold himself to the devil. Come on. Put the gun down. Let me handle him.”

  Her grip faltered. Just slightly. A flicker of hesitation ghosted across her face as her arms shook under the weight of the weapon. Slowly, almost unconsciously, the barrel dipped an inch.

  Nowak’s smile spread like oil.

  “There. That’s better. You’re a good girl. You’re not a killer.”

  His hand shot for his hip.

  A flash of metal.

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  The room snapped into chaos.

  The girl gasped, jerking her gun back up, but Nowak was already yanking a pistol free, his face twisted with triumph, finger curling on the trigger—

  BANG!

  Her shot cracked the air first.

  The bullet sparked against Nowak’s weapon, striking the steel and ripping a jagged dent across its chamber. The gun twisted in his grip, sparks spitting. He staggered, stunned by the force, cursing loud enough to shake the rafters.

  “Cholera!” he howled, clutching the half-ruined pistol, rage frothing out of him.

  “Pan Nowak!” The thug gripping Hannah flinched. The knife slipped. For one breathless instant Hannah was free—she fell forward, shoes scraping the concrete, and bolted straight for Kazou.

  Kazou blinked through haze and pain. He saw her—tiny, trembling, muffled cries bursting from her gag—flinging herself to his side. Her arms wrapped tight around his waist as if her grip alone could shield him from the world.

  “Hannah—” His voice rasped, breaking with equal parts terror and relief.

  Kazou blinked through the haze, his ears ringing. He saw her—arms locked, breath shaking, tears brimming in her eyes but refusing to fall—standing between him and Nowak like a wall.

  The gunshot still echoed when the blonde girl dropped to her knees beside Kazou.

  “Are you okay?!” Her hands slipped under his arm, desperate, trembling, trying to lift him. Her voice cracked with urgency, but there was steel behind it. “Can you stand? Please—just get up, we have to move!"

  Kazou’s head lolled for a moment. His vision blurred. His ribs burned where the car had struck him, every breath sharp as knives, but the young woman's face cut through the haze—urgent, alive, pulling him back from the dark.

  “I—” His voice rasped. He forced himself up with her help, teeth gritted. “I can stand.”

  “Good.” She hauled his arm over her shoulder. “Then we’re leaving. Now.”

  "Thank you, Misses!" Hannah exclaimed.

  The sudden sound of boots pounded against the walls.

  Nowak roared, his face twisted into something monstrous. “Don’t let them leave! Draw your guns!”

  The doorframe shook as two of his men burst inside, pistols flashing in their hands. The guests upstairs—the muffled laughter, the drunken songs—all fell silent, the air sharp with panic as muffled screams rose at the sound of the chaos downstairs.

  The girl’s heart thundered, but she didn’t falter. She and Hannah pulled Kazou with her, step by step, toward the exit. Kazou stumbled, his limp obvious, each motion agony—but he stayed upright. He had to.

  “Move!” she hissed, voice shaking but firm, guiding him like a lifeline. "Now!"

  "Come on, Kuroda!!!!" Hannah cried, tugging at his sleeve. "We gotta go!"

  Nowak’s snarl broke through. “They’re not getting out alive!”

  Another set of footsteps slammed against the hall. The men surged forward, guns raised.

  The blonde girl spun, firing two quick shots—the cracks deafening, sparks biting the wall. The men ducked back, cursing. That's when the three had a chance to escape.

  "They unblocked the exit!" Hannah exclaimed.

  "We need to run!" The blonde girl growled.

  The blonde girl yanked Kazou and Hannah, forcing them all into a sprint. They dashed out of the garage. Finally free from Nowak.

  Kazou staggered with her, his bloodied sleeve sliding across her shoulder, breath rattling. The exit glimmered at the end of the hall like salvation.

  The three of them ran—half-dragged, half-driven—while Nowak bellowed after them, his fury filling the walls like a storm.

  "No, no, no! You let them get away! You bastards!" Nowak yelled, smacking one of the guards in the head with his cue stick.

  "I had to duck! If I didn't, I woulda have been shot!" The guard argued.

  "Get up, we're going after them. We need them for the ritual. Sasha, Dr Kuroda, plus the fire, will lead Casimir here! His two chosen people." Nowak growled, pulling the guard back up to his feet by his sleeve.

  A couple of guards had already stormed off after the three; the few remaining glanced over at Nowak.

  "You four. Light the fire. Warsaw shall burn."