Sophie hovered over the couch, trying to get Jamie’s attention with a warm smile. She wasn’t sure if the girl was asleep or just hiding her face between her legs, but time was running out. The Marines were ready to move, and there was no way Sophie was going to leave the girl behind with Luke, even if the journey outside was risky.

“Jamie, I know you’re scared, but we have to go now. There is a safer place for us. A place where there is a boy your age. His name is Owen.”

The girl peeked one eye from between her knees. “Do I have to go outside?”

“Only for a little while. And I promise I’ll be by your side the entire way,” Sophie insisted. “Can you be brave like Owen?”

Jamie’s eyes widened. With one swift movement, she nodded and jumped off the couch. “I bet I’m faster than he is, too,” she said.

Sophie smiled. Kids never ceased to amaze her—their resiliency, their competitiveness with each other, and their innocence. She watched Jamie run toward Overton and Bouma as the unmistakable click of a gun’s safety rang out behind them.

“No one’s going anywhere,” a voice said from the entry to the bunker.

Overton didn’t need to turn to see Luke standing in the doorway, the machine gun leveled at his back. He’d had a feeling the man was close to losing it but even the veteran Marine had underestimated the man’s intentions.

“You can’t go out there. You won’t survive,” he said tonelessly.

Luke’s voice reminded Overton of Alexia’s—robotic and calm and unwavering. He watched Bouma pull his hand from his backpack and slowly reach for his sidearm. Overton shook his head and caught the corporal’s eye. “No,” he mouthed before turning to face Luke.

“You don’t want to do this, Mr. Williard,” he said, his hands raised.

“Drop the formalities. This isn’t open for discussion. Now put your weapons on the table and take a seat on the couch.”

“What are we now, your hostages? Are you going to keep us here forever?” Overton asked, his face turning red with anger.

Sophie watched from a distance, frozen. She motioned for Jamie to come back, and moments later she felt the girl’s arms around her waist.

“You will stay as long as those things are outside,” Luke replied. “Now, where’s that private? Finster? Finley?” he asked, scanning the room with his machine gun.

In the second Luke turned his head, Overton unbuttoned the holster to his .45, spun, and fired off two shots. One punched a neat hole in Luke’s leg, while the other severed his firing hand at the wrist. The man’s legs folded underneath him and a spray of bloody mist shot into the air.