The low rumble grew louder.
Malcolm moved first.
He grabbed the man by the collar and yanked him up, pulling him in close and turning him into a shield as he pressed the gun hard against his side.
The man let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh. "Relax," he said. "We're not your enemies."
Iyisha didn't lower her weapon. She glanced at Marybeth and Lance.
Marybeth was already scanning the surroundings, gun up, eyes moving, while Lance stayed low, breathing still uneven but steady enough to hold his aim.
The car rolled to a stop.
The door opened.
Boots hit the ground.
Iyisha's grip tightened.
A head leaned out.
"Guys."
Iyisha let out the breath she didn't realize she had been holding.
Aljun.
Malcolm didn't ease.
He pressed the gun harder into the man and leaned closer.
"What do you want from us?" he growled into his ear.
"Ease up, soldier boy," the man said, his voice calm despite the gun pressed into him. "You need us."
