Amber heard Jameson clearly but felt torn between her mind and body. She couldn't utter a response.

"Go. Now," Jameson urged, his gaze turning icy.

A shiver wracked Amber as she rose, her dress clinging uncomfortably to her cold sweat. She was alive, but she felt as if she had died over and over again.

She walked toward Wesley; a few steps felt like a lifetime.

Wesley's hands were bound, so he used his head to prop himself up. He swayed as he kneeled before her.

He had known he would die the moment he was captured. However, he wasn't resigned to a meaningless death; he wanted to die with dignity.

Carl approached and took Amber's cold hand, placing a gun in it and forcing her fingers to grip the handle. Despite the blood covering his face, Wesley offered her a wan smile, a gesture meant to comfort Amber.

she squeezed them shut. The dank basement was

her eyes

eye. No one else would have noticed,

Amber-Wesley was sending

tapped her trembling fingertips against her side, matching the

Schmidt waiting." Carl looked at

slowly raised her arm and aimed the gun at Wesley. She panted heavily, on the verge

suddenly got up from the ground and pushed Amber

professionally trained. They shouldn't have been this slow to react-including Carl. They had been careless! They never expected someone so tortured

as he fiercely

panicked and was unsure

was outraged. He shouted as he aimed his gun at Wesley's back and fired

it in anymore. Tears streamed down her

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