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The walls pressed close on both sides, rough stone catching at my backpack as I proceeded. Behind me, Lachlan’s boots landed heavier than mine, his breathing controlled despite the pain his injuries must be causing.

Rafael’s radio crackled before we reached the top.

“South gate is closed and under our control.”

Another voice cut over it.

“No one closes anything without Marcela Reyes’s authority.”

“Reyes murdered Ciro,” another cut in.

Then three men began shouting at once.

Rafael lowered the volume until the voices became a murmur.

“Left,” I whispered.

Lachlan’s hand settled briefly against my hip as I cut around the corner.

The passage opened into the rear of the main floor’s storage rooms.

I stopped before another hidden panel, and Lachlan nearly walked into me.

“What?” he whispered.

“Voices.”

He went silent.

Two men were arguing somewhere just beyond the wall.

One wanted to get to the armory.

The other wanted a truck and whatever cash he could find before all the gates closed.

Their footsteps moved away.

I counted to three.

“Okay, let’s go.”

I pushed the panel open.

Lachlan slipped past me before I could take the first step into the room, his pistol already raised.

He checked the aisles between the rows of supplies and wooden crates, then looked back at me.

“Clear,” he mouthed.

Rafael emerged behind us.

We moved.

The storage room had always seemed enormous when I came through it alone at night. Now every aisle felt too narrow, every turn too exposed.

A burst of gunfire cracked somewhere above us.

I flinched, but kept going.