The smell of smoke lingered in the air, mingling with the coppery tang of blood. The team's temporary hideout was a makeshift shelter, hastily constructed with whatever materials were available. Its walls bore the marks of the recent battle, scorched and battered, but it held together.
Adrian paced back and forth, his mind racing. The images of the battle replayed in his head, each blow, each cry of pain etched into his memory. He glanced at Emma, lying on a makeshift bed, her face pale and her breathing shallow. The bandages wrapped around her wounds were already stained with blood.
"How is she?" Adrian asked, his voice barely a whisper.
Lydia, tending to Emma, looked up. "She's stable for now, but we need better medical supplies. This is just a temporary fix."
Adrian clenched his fists. "This is all my fault. If I had been faster, if I had seen the attack coming..."
Lydia stood, wiping her hands on a rag. "You can't blame yourself for everything,
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