"Move them," Zubair instructed, not looking to see who would respond. "Away from the door."
Fast and clean: Alexei dragged the unconscious one by his collar.
Elias frog-walked his man with an arm bar that convinced him to become pliable. Zubair hauled the leader without dignity and set him against the wall with a knee on his ribs and a muzzle under his jaw.
Lachlan scooped rifles one-handed and made a neat pile on the counter—bolts locked back, magazines stripped, firing pins yanked and pocketed.
The last conscious kid—the one Sera had folded—glared up at her. The corner of a chocolate wrapper winked from his pocket. He swallowed, remembered his earlier grin, and pasted it back on poorly.
"Who's outside?" Zubair asked the leader conversationally.
The leader smiled with too many teeth and a red mouth. "Enough."
"Wrong answer," Zubair said, still pleasant. "Try again."
