"Drop your weapon!" The same voice yells, and I slowly realize it's not Pete. "Drop the weapon!"
I freeze. This is beyond a high-intense situation of delivering a baby or working in the ER. This time, my life is on the line, and I'm not sure which weapon I should drop in order to save it since I'm not carrying one.
"Damn it, Rodgers. Drop your f*****g gun, or I will shoot you." An out-of-breath, no-longer-mysterious voice screams from behind.
"Spencer?"
I'm pushed forward, the palms of my hands receiving fresh scrapes from the rocky ground. Big, strong arms wrap around me from behind, pulling me up and twisting me around until we're chest to chest. I do my best to beat on my attacker's chest and kick at his shins, doing anything I can to get away.
"Shhh. It's okay, baby. I've got you.
