Kloric didn’t allow himself time to think.

  “Don’t shoot,” he said quickly but clearly. “He’s grieving. Nothing more. I’ll handle him.”

  The guard turned his head toward Kloric, eyes cold.

  “Grieving?” he scoffed. “Who cares?”

  He nudged the rifle closer.

  “A dog that doesn’t know when to kneel,” the guard continued, voice flat, “is a bad dog.”

  “And bad dogs are dangerous.”

  Kloric clicked his tongue softly.

  Another metaphor.

  First it was bad apples. Now it's bad dogs.

  Are these people even human?

  Kloric shifted his weight, muscles tensing as he started to rise.

  Before he could stand, a hand clutched his shirt.

  Terren.

  “Don’t,” Terren whispered urgently, fingers digging into the fabric as if anchoring him in place. “Calm down.”

  Kloric froze.

  Terren shook his head slightly, eyes wide—not with fear of the guards, but fear of him.

  “You’re not thinking straight,” Terren murmured. “Please. Not now.”

  Kloric clenched his jaw.

  Terren knew him well enough to see it—the edge in his movements, the way his restraint was starting to crack. If Kloric stood up now, it wouldn’t be calculated.

  It would be reckless.

  And recklessness would get them all killed.

  Kloric stayed where he was.

  He could feel it—Terren’s grip still tight behind him, not calming him, but restraining something worse. Terren wasn’t less angry than he was.

  He was just trying harder to survive.

  Kloric drew in a slow breath.

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  “Then punish him,” he said, voice steady despite the rifle still aimed nearby. “Isn’t that better?”

  The guard turned sharply.

  “He lost his temper,” Kloric continued. “Forgot his place. That doesn’t mean the rest of us should die for it.”

  The guard strode forward and seized Kloric by the collar, yanking him up just enough that their faces were inches apart.

  “What right do you have,” the guard growled, “to make offers?”

  Panic rippled through the kneeling prisoners.

  Chains rattled. Breathing spiked.

  Before Kloric could respond, a voice cut through the noise.

  “Wait.”

  The battle-hardened man had risen to one knee.

  “He’s not challenging you,” the man said carefully. “He’s trying to make an agreement. You’re still in charge.”

  The guards glanced at one another.

  A few soldiers among the prisoners shifted, tension coiling tight.

  “Just because we’re kneeling,” someone muttered, “doesn’t mean we won’t fight back.”

  Kloric’s blood ran cold. Who said that?

  You idiot.

  But that was the spark.

  Too much. Too fast—

  Then Movement.

  The grieving man suddenly lunged, sprinting toward the guard holding Kloric, chains clattering wildly as he reached out—

  Boom.

  The shot cracked through the air.

  The man collapsed mid-step, face-first into the dirt.

  For half a second, there was silence.

  Then everything broke.

  Screams tore through the yard. Prisoners scattered in blind panic, scrambling in every direction.

  “Get back!” a guard shouted.

  Gunfire erupted.

  Terren surged to his feet and grabbed the arm of the guard holding Kloric.

  “Let him go!” Terren yelled, desperation raw in his voice.

  The world dissolved into chaos.

  Kloric’s thoughts screamed.

  No. No—no, no.

  It was happening again.

  The chaos.

  The running.

  The targets.

  “Move!” Kloric shouted.

  He slammed his shoulder into the guard gripping him, tearing free as buttons snapped from his shirt. Before the man could react, Kloric grabbed Terren’s hand and yanked him forward.

  “If it’s chaos,” Kloric hissed, already running, “then we hide. Now!”

  They ran.

  Footsteps thundered behind them.

  Four people followed—the same four from his first loop.

  Gunshots cracked through the air.

  One whizzed past Kloric’s ear. Another struck Terren’s leg.

  Terren cried out and stumbled.

  Kloric caught him instantly.

  “Can you walk?”

  Terren shook his head, teeth clenched.

  Without hesitation, Kloric hoisted him onto his back and kept moving.

  They reached the vehicle yard just as another volley of shots rang out. Kloric ducked behind a parked truck, collapsing into cover as his lungs burned. His breath fogged in the night air.

  The others scrambled in after him.

  Kloric tore a strip from his shirt and wrapped it tightly around Terren’s bleeding leg, hands shaking but precise.

  The battle-hardened man crouched beside them.

  “What now?”

  The gunfire outside was fading. Shouts echoed farther away.

  Kloric tied the knot and leaned back, chest heaving.

  “I don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “I didn’t think it would reach this point.”

  Terren placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “We’re alive,” he said softly. “That’s enough for now. Let’s breathe. Then we think.”

  One of the women spoke up, voice tense.

  “They’ll search for us. We don’t have much time.”

  “I know,” Kloric replied. “But rushing again will only get us killed.”

  He clenched his fist.

  “One bad apple spoils the rest.”

  The woman frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

  Kloric looked toward the darkness beyond the truck.

  “It means,” he said slowly, “that if one of us goes rogue, they’ll assume we all can.”

  His fingers curled tighter.

  “And they won’t risk that.”

  They stayed still, listening.

  Terren frowned. “Do you hear that?”

  The brown-haired youth—about Kloric’s age—shook his head. “No.”

  Kloric’s stomach tightened.

  “…You’re right,” he said quietly. “It’s too quiet.”

  The others looked at him.

  “That’s not good,” Kloric continued. “It means they’re done firing.”

  A second passed.

  Then—

  Bark.

  Sharp. Distant.

  Another followed. Louder.

  The brown-haired youth’s eyes widened. “They’ve started the hunt.”

  The battle-hardened man cursed under his breath. “Dogs,” he muttered. “We can’t hide our scent.”

  Before anyone could answer, a blinding beam of light swept across the vehicle yard.

  Metal gleamed white.

  Shadows jumped.

  The barking grew closer—faster now, heavier.

  Thump.

  Claws hit the dirt.

  Another thump. Closer.

  Kloric’s heart pounded.

  The hunt had begun.

  “Our feet are still chained,” the woman whispered, panic creeping into her voice. “We can’t go far. It’s already a miracle we made it this far.”

  The barking grew louder.

  Closer.

  The battle-hardened man clenched his jaw and glanced toward the rows of vehicles.

  “Then our only chance,” he said quietly, “is transport.”

  He moved immediately, limping from truck to truck, yanking at doors as softly as he could manage.

  “Let me check for keys,” he muttered. “If none of these start…”

  A beam of light swept past the edge of the truck they were hiding behind. Everyone froze.

  “…then we’re done for.”

  Metal rattled faintly as the man tried another door.

  The dogs barked again—this time close enough that Kloric could hear the wet rasp of their breathing.