50%.
“Twenty-six.”
Hayes, still bleeding, stood slowly.
Everyone watched him.
He looked at me.
Then at Margaret.
Then toward the corridor.
“I can stop her.”
Margaret laughed.
“You can barely stand.”
“I know the old fuel system.”
Russell stared at him.
“Thomas.”
Hayes looked at me.
“Emily.”
For the first time, his voice carried no manipulation.
No cleverness.
Just exhaustion.
“I have failed you in every way a father can fail a daughter.”
I said nothing.
“I’m not asking forgiveness.”
He took the emergency flashlight.
“I’m just going to do one thing right.”
Then he left.
Rebecca reached ten.
The transfer hit 71%.
“Nine.”
A gunshot sounded upstairs.
“Eight.”
Then another.
“Seven.”
The lights flickered.
“Six.”
An explosion shook the farmhouse.
Claire screamed.
The transfer froze at 79%.
“No!” Margaret shouted.
Smoke began entering the corridor.
Russell grabbed my arm.
“We leave now.”
I stared at the screen.
79%.
