Liam suddenly ducked—instinct, reflex, and something more. A sharp crack rang through the dim room as a bullet screamed past where his head had been, punching a hole clean through the plaster wall. Dust scattered into the air, and for a brief second, silence followed. If he had moved a second later, his brains would've been splattered across the precinct wall.
He twisted his head, eyes narrowing behind the mask. Four—no, three officers at the far end of the corridor, hunkered behind whatever cover they could find. They were shouting into their walkie-talkies, voices tense and clipped.
"Target spotted! East wing! Repeat—he's in the east wing!"
Liam gritted his teeth. He couldn't stay still—not here. They'd box him in and make this whole night for nothing. So he moved.
