Elira's POV

With every last ounce of strength, I pressed my palm against the wall, fingers digging into the rough paint, tracing the crack I’d noticed before. The wall groaned under my push, dust and tiny flakes falling, and my mouth went dry.

With one final push, the wall swung inwards, revealing a dark, narrow corridor. My chest tightened with relief and disbelief. The crack wasn’t caused by bullets. It was always there.

The panic room had been designed not just to hide us—but to give a way out.

A broken cry tore from my lips, relief flooding through my bones. I turned to Aiden. “Aiden… there’s a way out.”...