The shot hit Lance in the stomach.
For one second, Marybeth did nothing.
Not because she was calm.
But because everything split at once.
Iyisha was being dragged toward the back room. Lance was folding to the floor. Outside, the first gunshots cracked across the street, and Malcolm was somewhere beyond the broken window.
Marybeth took one step after Iyisha.
Then Lance hit the floor.
She turned toward him.
Then she turned back to the rear door.
Iyisha's hand caught the doorframe. Her nails scraped against the wood before the soldier yanked her through.
Marybeth opened her mouth to shout for Malcolm.
Another burst of gunfire hit the front of the store. Glass broke inward. A rack snapped sideways. Marybeth ducked on instinct, one arm over her head, and the shout died in her throat.
If she screamed, the soldiers outside would know exactly where she was.
If she ran after Iyisha, Lance would bleed out.
If she stayed, Iyisha would be gone.
Lance made a wet sound on the floor.
