Thorne POV
The perimeter looked like a war had ended an hour after it actually had.
The medics were running triage lines, emergency vehicles were stacked along the barricades, and civilians pressed against the cordon tape trying to get a look at whatever had just leveled a city block from the inside out.
"Any casualties?" I asked Max, who met us at the rally point with a tablet already full of red flags.
"Six confirmed from the strike team. Two critical but stable for now." He didn't look up. "It could've been worse. Could've been a lot worse."
"It could've been everyone," Mark said, dropping onto an overturned crate, blood crusted along one side of his face from a gash he hadn't let anyone touch yet.
"Get that looked at, "I said.
"I'm fine." He replied.
"You're bleeding into your collar."
"I will survive."
