“Shield!” Marcus roared.

He threw his heavy frame in front of Nora and Lila, his ballistic shield raised.

The blast was blinding, a white-hot flash accompanied by a pressure wave that popped my ears.

The smell of ozone and burnt magnesium filled the narrow cellar.

My ears rang with a high, steady whistle.

I fired three blind shots toward the stairs, keeping my body positioned over Clara.

“Move!” I shouted, the sound muffled by the ringing in my ears. “Marcus, lead the way!”

Marcus moved forward, his flashlight now attached to his under-barrel rail, casting a wide beam down the southern corridor.

Daniel stayed behind, kneeling near the corner of the brick arch, firing single, controlled shots to suppress the shooters above.

“They are pushing,” Daniel said, his voice calm despite the gunfire. “Two more on the left.”

We moved into the narrow, low-ceilinged corridor that connected the wine cellar to the old foundations.

The air here was colder, smelling of damp earth and old concrete.

Clara’s head hung over my shoulder, her breathing shallow and uneven.