I understood his real message: our reinforcements were in position.
"I don't think that will be necessary, Yuri," I replied, never taking my eyes off Denton. "I believe our visitors were just leaving."
"That's not happening," Denton said, gesturing to his men. "Spread out. Check every room, starting upstairs." Two of the fake officers began moving toward the staircase.
"Stop." The word cut through the air like a blade.
They hesitated, looking back at their leader. That small pause told me everything I needed to know. These weren't hardened soldiers—they were O'Rourke's typical hired muscle, used to intimidating ordinary businesses, not confronting someone like me.
"Last chance," I offered, flexing my fingers at my sides. "Leave now, and I'll consider this an unfortunate misunderstanding. Stay, and you won't be leaving at all."
Denton's face flushed with anger. "You threatening law enforcement, Aleksandrovich? That's a felony."
A cold smile spread across my face. "We both know you're not law enforcement. The question is whether you're smart enough to walk out of here alive."
For a moment, I thought he might actually take the offer. I saw calculation in his eyes as he weighed his options. But then his gaze flicked upward, toward the upper floors where he believed Mishka was hiding, and I knew O'Rourke's prize was too tempting.
"Take him down," Denton ordered, reaching for his weapon. "O'Rourke wants the kid alive, but this one's expendable."
My last thread of restraint snapped. No one threatened me in my own territory. No one came for what was mine.
My bear roared beneath my skin, demanding blood.
When Denton tried to push past me toward the stairs, something primitive and ancient awoke inside me. My hand shot out faster than any human eye could track, fingers closing around his throat like a vise.
I lifted him clear off the ground with one arm, his feet dangling uselessly as he clawed at my grip. The bear within me roared in satisfaction at finally having this threat in our grasp.
"You think I don't know what you're really after?" I growled, veins standing out on my forearms as I held him aloft. I could feel his pulse racing beneath my fingers, his fear a tangible thing that fed my rage.
The room erupted into chaos.
One of Denton's men drew his weapon, but Yuri was faster. My second-in-command launched himself across the polished floor, tackling the fake officer before he could fire. The gun skittered away, disappearing beneath an overturned table.
I threw Denton like he weighed nothing, his body crashing into the bar with enough force to splinter the polished wood. Crystal glasses shattered, raining glittering shards across the black granite. The expensive bottles of vodka I imported directly from Russia toppled and broke, filling the air with the sharp scent of alcohol.
Two more of O'Rourke's men rushed me from opposite sides. Amateurs. I'd been fighting for survival since before their grandfathers were born.
I caught the first one with a backhanded blow that sent him spinning into a table. The fine mahogany collapsed beneath his weight, plates and silverware clattering to the floor.
The second managed to land a punch against my ribs—a blow that would have incapacitated a human but felt like little more than an irritation to me.
I seized him by his fake uniform, the fabric tearing in my grip, and slammed him face-first into the wall. The cream-colored paint smeared red with his blood as he slumped to the floor.
Around me, my security team engaged with the remaining intruders. A lifetime of working for me had taught them efficiency in violence.
One of my men—a wolf shifter who'd pledged loyalty to me in 1978—moved with brutal grace, disarming his opponent before delivering a series of strikes that left the man unconscious on the floor.
I turned my attention back to Denton, who was struggling to his feet behind the ruined bar. Blood trickled from a cut on his forehead, and rage distorted his features as he reached inside his jacket.
"I've spent a century dealing with men like you," I said, stalking toward him with deliberate steps. "Men who mistake brutality for strength. Men who believe numbers compensate for skill." I stepped over a fallen chair without breaking eye contact. "Men who foolishly believe they can come into my territory and take what's mine."
Denton pulled out not a gun, but a small black device I didn't recognize. My instincts screamed danger, but I was already in motion, leaping over the bar to reach him.
Too late, I realized my mistake.
"You've spent a century underestimating technology," Denton spat, pressing a button on the device.
Nothing could have prepared me for the pain that followed. A wave of energy pulsed through the air, invisible but devastating. It hit me like a physical blow, driving me to my knees as every nerve ending in my body fired simultaneously.
