Liam caught me, his strong arm supporting my waist.

“Lean on me,” he whispered.

Another gunshot rang out, and the brass doorknob sheared off completely, clattering to the floor.

The door budged inward an inch, stopped only by the wedged crash cart and the metal pole.

A gloved hand reached through the gap, trying to clear the debris.

Liam dragged me toward the bathroom door.

My breath came in shallow, painful gasps as we slipped into the cramped, tiled space.

He closed the heavy bathroom door behind us, locking it with a quiet click.

The air in the bathroom was cold and smelled of damp porcelain.

“Can you walk?” he asked.

“I have to,” I said, gripping the leather bag tighter.

My fingers dug into the textured leather, finding comfort in the physical weight of the drive.

We crossed the small bathroom to the secondary door that led into the adjacent, empty room.

Liam cracked it open, peering into the shadows.

The room was silent, the bed empty and stripped of sheets.

But then, a bright blue light illuminated our faces.

It came from inside my leather bag.