“You really think Ano will protect you after this?” My words come out rough, tasting of copper. “You’re nothing but a disposable pawn.”
“I earned my place!” The gun shakes against my temple. “All those years of watching you, reporting every move. While you played at being untouchable, I was there, learning your weaknesses.”
Greyson’s voice cuts through the tension. “Then you know he never forgives betrayal.”
“He trusts me,” Marcus insists, but uncertainty creeps into his tone.
I feel him flinch at my words. “How long before you outlive your usefulness?”
“I said shut up!” The arm around my throat tightens, making black spots dance across my vision.
I lock eyes with Declan, seeing the silent calculation in his gaze. My legs shake with fatigue, but I force myself to stay upright. One chance. That’s all they need.
“You know what your biggest mistake was, Marcus?” I manage through gritted teeth.
“What’s that?” He shifts his grip slightly.
“Thinking I’d die quietly.”
I hear the thundering of boots before I see them—five of Ano’s thugs charging down the basement stairs, weapons raised. The fluorescent light flickers, casting grotesque shadows as they spread out across the concrete floor.
“Looks like the cavalry’s here,” Marcus sneers, pressing the gun harder against my temple. “Drop your weapons, or he dies.”
Declan’s eyes scan the room, assessing. His stance shifts minutely—a predator preparing to strike. Beside him, Nolan and Greyson mirror his tension, their training evident in every controlled movement.
“Last chance,” one of the guards barks. “Weapons down!”
The basement air grows thick with anticipation. My heart pounds against my bruised ribs as I watch the deadly dance unfold. Declan’s gaze meets mine for a split second—a silent signal.
“Fine,” Marcus spits. “Kill them all—”
Declan moves like lightning. His elbow smashes into the nearest guard’s throat while Nolan and Greyson explode into action. Gunfire erupts, deafening in the confined space. I see Greyson take down two guards with surgical precision while Nolan engages the others in brutal hand-to-hand combat.
Marcus yanks me backward, cursing as Declan charges toward us. The gun at my temple vanishes as Marcus shoves me aside to meet Declan’s attack. I slam into the workbench, tools clattering to the floor as pain explodes through my already battered body.
Through blurred vision, I watch Marcus and Declan collide. Marcus fights with the desperate fury of a cornered animal, landing a crushing blow to Declan’s jaw. But Declan absorbs the hit, retaliating with a devastating combination that drives Marcus back.
“You’re dead,” Marcus snarls, blood spraying from his split lip. “All of you!”
The basement becomes a war zone. Nolan grapples with a massive guard near the stairs while Greyson systematically dismantles his opponents. Each impact echoes off the concrete walls, punctuated by grunts of pain and the crack of breaking bones.
Declan and Marcus trade savage blows, their fight a brutal demonstration of skill and raw power. Marcus’s experience shows—he catches Declan with a vicious uppercut that rocks him back. But Declan recovers, his military training evident as he presses forward, methodically breaking down Marcus’s defense.
My vision swims as I struggle to stay conscious, every breath sending daggers through my chest. The flickering light turns the violence into a nightmarish slideshow of blood and shadow. I force myself to focus, watching Marcus’s movements for any opening, any chance to turn the tide.
Marcus taunts between exchanges with Declan. “Now you get to watch everyone you care about die!”
Declan’s response is a devastating combination that sends Marcus staggering. “Keep talking,” he growls. “Makes it easier to hit you.”
Pain tears through my body as I grip the workbench, forcing myself upright. Every breath feels like razors in my lungs, but I lock my focus on Marcus’s fight with Declan. Blood drips from my body, and my vision blurs, threatening darkness.
Eve’s face blazes in my mind—that defiant tilt of her chin when she challenged me, the way her eyes sparked with determination even in her darkest moments. The memory of her strength floods my system with renewed purpose. She never backed down, never surrendered. Neither will I.
“Getting tired, sweetheart?” Marcus taunts Declan, landing a brutal hit that makes my friend stumble.
My fingers find a metal pipe on the work bench. Gripping it sends fire through my shredded wrists, but I welcome the pain. It keeps me present and focused.
“Come on,” I growl to myself, forcing my legs to steady. “Get up.”
