One second I’m sitting on the floor trying not to panic, and the next—
A hand clamps around my arm.
“Up.”
I barely have time to react before I’m yanked to my feet.
“Hey—!” I start, but the words die in my throat when I see the gun up close.
My body goes rigid.
“Move.”
I don’t fight.
I can’t.
Not when there are at least four of them in the room, all armed, all watching like we’re nothing more than cattle.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Archie being dragged up too.
“Dude—what the fuck!” he snaps, trying to twist out of the guard’s grip.
It earns him a shove.
Theron doesn’t say anything.
But I see the tension in his shoulders as they grab him too.
For a brief second, our eyes meet.
And something unspoken passes between us.
Stay alive.
Then we’re being dragged toward the door.
The hallway is blinding.
After the dim, suffocating darkness of that room, the lights feel like knives stabbing into my eyes.
I flinch, trying to turn my face away, but the guard jerks me forward.
“Keep moving.”
My vision swims.
Everything is too bright. Too sharp.
The floor is smooth under my boots—polished concrete or something similar—and the sound of our footsteps echoes endlessly.
The halls stretch on forever.
Left. Right. Another corridor. Another identical stretch of walls and lights.
It feels like we’re going in circles, like this place was designed to disorient. Or trap.
My head is still foggy.