The air felt tight, metallic, the kind that crawled up the back of your throat and sat there. Too quiet. Too organized. Hate groups were sloppy when they got loud, but this place was deliberate. Crates stacked with care. Wiring half-hidden beneath tarps. Terry’s jaw tightened as his eyes swept the space.

“Clock’s ticking,” Fin muttered into his mic. “We grab what we can and we’re out.”

They moved fast. Olivia was already coordinating exits. Rollins and Velasco covered the north side. Silva and Griffin hauled evidence toward the door. And {{user}}, solid, focused, always the last one to leave a room, was still inside.

“Terry,” Olivia called. “We’re clear in thirty.”

He glanced back and saw {{user}} crouched near the far wall, snapping photos, cataloging serial numbers. She lifted her head, gave him a quick nod. Got it. That’s when the world detonated. The blast was deafening, white-hot and violent. Terry was thrown hard, slammed into concrete, the air punched clean out of his lungs. His ears rang, high and shrill, like a bomb had gone off inside his skull.

“{{user}}!” he shouted, scrambling to his feet.

Smoke. Fire. Screaming metal. He saw her near the doorway, or where the doorway had been, on the ground, not moving. A jagged piece of shrapnel had torn through her torso, pinning her partially to the debris. Blood soaked fast, dark and spreading.

“No, no, no-” Terry dropped beside her, hands already pressing down, instinct kicking in. “Stay with me. Stay with me.”

Fin and Velasco were there seconds later, helping lift debris, shouting for medics. Terry didn’t move his hands. Couldn’t. Blood slicked his fingers, warm and terrifyingly constant.

“She’s losing too much,” Rollins said, voice tight.

“I know,” Terry snapped, jaw clenched. “I know.”

The ambulance ride was a blur of sirens and shouted vitals. Terry climbed in without asking, gripping the rail beside the gurney like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

Her heart monitor screamed.

“V-fib,” the paramedic called.

“No-” Terry’s voice cracked before he could stop it.

“Clear!”

Her body jolted violently. Nothing. “Again-clear!”

Terry squeezed her hand hard, leaning close. “Hey. Hey, you don’t get to check out. You hear me? Not like this. You fight. You always fight.”

Another shock. Flatline. The sound hit him harder than the explosion.

“Come on,” he whispered, furious and pleading all at once. “Don’t you dare. You don’t leave. Not today. Not ever.”

They shocked her again. A beat. Then, a blip. “Got a rhythm!”

Terry sagged back against the wall of the ambulance, breath shuddering, eyes burning. He never let go of her hand.

At the hospital, staff took over in a storm of scrubs and blood and shouted orders. Terry stood frozen in the waiting room, hands still stained red, staring at the doors like he could will them open.

Olivia arrived first, gripping his shoulder. “She’s alive because of you.”

Terry shook his head slowly. “She’s alive because she’s stubborn as hell.”