The closet room was beginning to feel smaller with every passing second. Kurt pressed his eye to the iron-rimmed keyhole of the door to observe the situation while looking for the opportune moment to escape.
Outside, the chaos had only escalated. The muffled stomping of boots on stone was constant now, punctuated by the frantic shouts of men in a panic.
"... Search every corridor! Check the lower vents!"
"... Those heathens dare to kill even more of our brothers?! They will pay dearly!"
'Shit. They're on high alert.' Kurt's jaw tightened. He then turned his attention toward the back of the small room.
The girl was wedged between a shelf of empty buckets and a stack of old, moth-eaten mops. She was hitching in small, violent sobs that she desperately tried to swallow. Her tiny shoulders shook under her thin tunic.
