The hallway reeked of fuel and smoke. Somewhere behind you, a siren was still screaming — high-pitched, frantic, broken. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Not even close.

You ducked behind the half-collapsed wall, heart pounding, hand tight around the data drive. It was still warm from the server. Too warm.

Jay dropped down beside you, breath shallow, jaw clenched. His jacket was torn at the shoulder — dark, wet. Blood? Maybe. He didn’t say anything. Just looked at you like this was somehow your fault, even though you both knew it wasn’t.

You were never meant to be paired together. Not again. Not after what happened last time when he left you behind with a bullet in your leg and no way out.

"This is falling apart," you muttered under your breath. "We should’ve never—"

His hand brushed against your knee. Firm. Calming. “Breathe,” he said, voice low. “We’re getting out of here.”

You looked at him. Really looked. And for a second, there was something in his face — not anger, not fear. Focus.

“Okay,” he said quietly, rising to his feet. His movements were precise, fast. He reloaded like second nature, eyes on the exit. “You stay here. Don’t move until you hear the second shot. Then grab the drive and run. Straight out. No hesitating.”

He paused. Just for a beat. Long enough to look back at you.

“Trust me.”