Cellie's POV
I found the container by feel, which was the specific skill set available to someone running in near-darkness with smoke burning at the edges of their vision, and I got inside and pressed my back against the cold metal and breathed.
My hands found a crowbar on the ground. I picked it up.
The gunshots were everywhere and nowhere, the sound bouncing off the containers in a way that made direction impossible to determine. I thought about Demetrio in the middle of all of it and told myself the specific thing I had been telling myself every time this kind of fear arrived: he has survived worse, he is trained for this, the plan is running.
Footsteps stopped at the container entrance.
I swung.
"What the—" Dominic grabbed the crowbar before it connected. "It's me. It is me, Cellie."
I dropped it. "Sorry. Sorry. Are you okay? Where's Demetrio? Where's Manuel—"
