My admiration for Dima's skills was tempered by the brutality I'd just witnessed. These men weren't innocent—they'd come to kidnap me, had already taken Nicolai—but watching violence unfold in real-time was different than knowing it happened.
Another drop of blood splashed onto the keyboard, reminding me of the toll my abilities were taking. I couldn't afford to dwell on it. Every second Nicolai remained in O'Rourke's hands was a second too long.
The pain behind my eyes intensified as I expanded my awareness to the entire building, tracking the remaining intruders. Four men left on the ground floor, two on the third floor, plus Denton. Seven total. I needed to keep them disoriented and separated.
I triggered conflicting alarm systems throughout the building—fire alarms in one section, security breach warnings in another, automated lockdown protocols in a third. The cacophony of sounds would make communication impossible and navigation a nightmare.
Next, I cycled security doors randomly, sealing off corridors only to open them minutes later. On the monitors, I watched O'Rourke's men try to regroup, only to find their paths repeatedly blocked or altered.
"Not so easy when your prey bites back, is it?" I whispered.
Finding the building's intercom system, I connected it to my terminal. My voice echoed through the corridors, distorted and eerie, bouncing off walls and seeming to come from everywhere at once.
"You should have left him alone," I said, my voice surprisingly steady despite the blood now dripping from my ears as well as my nose. "You should have left us all alone."
I watched their reactions on the monitors—the wide eyes, the raised weapons pointed at shadows, the fear that I could practically smell through the screen.
"This is my house now," I continued, allowing my rage to seep into my voice. "And I don't like uninvited guests."
On the second-floor feed, Dima had finished securing his attackers with their own zip ties. He stood upright, water still streaming from his hair and clothes, and looked directly at the nearest security camera. A thin, predatory smile curved his lips as he gave me a respectful nod of acknowledgment.
I nodded back, though he couldn't see me.
We were winning this battle, but the war was far from over. Nicolai was still out there, in O'Rourke's hands. And I was only getting started.
I wiped blood from my face with my sleeve, leaving crimson smears across my skin. The small victory with Dima had cost me—my head pounded like someone was taking a jackhammer to my skull, and the steady drip of blood from my nose had become a concerning flow.
But there was no time to rest. Nicolai was still out there, and watching Dima in action had crystallized one undeniable fact—I needed weapons if I was going to get Nicolai back. Serious weapons.
The building schematics I'd pulled up earlier showed a sublevel two—a heavily secured area labeled only as "Storage." But I'd been around Nicolai's people long enough to recognize a euphemism when I saw one.
That wasn't storage. It was an armory.
I scanned through the communication systems, searching for someone with proper clearance. Most channels were down or jammed with emergency protocols I'd triggered myself, but there had to be someone still at their post.
My fingers flew across the keyboard, leaving bloody fingerprints behind as I bypassed security protocols and opened a secure channel. Static filled the room, the harsh sound making me wince as fresh pain lanced through my head.
"This is a restricted emergency channel," a gruff voice finally came through. "Identify yourself."
I recognized him immediately—Zev, head of the syndicate's security detail. I'd only met him twice, both times when he'd questioned my presence in Nicolai's inner circle. He hadn't bothered hiding his suspicion of the "electronic freak," as I'd once overheard him call me.
Perfect. Just the man I needed—the one least likely to help me.
"This is Mishka," I said, surprised by the steadiness in my voice despite the blood now dripping onto my shirt. "I need immediate access to sublevel two."
The silence that followed was so long I thought the connection might have dropped. Then a harsh laugh came through the speaker. "You want access to the armory? Kid, I don't know what game you're playing, but—"
"This isn't a game," I cut him off. "Nicolai has been taken by O'Rourke's men. I need weapons if I'm going to get him back."
Another pause, shorter this time. "Where are you?"
"Panic room, primary residence," I replied. "I've been coordinating defense from here. We've neutralized at least half of the intruders, but Nicolai is already gone. They took him twenty-three minutes ago."
"Stay where you are," Zev ordered, his voice turning professional. "We'll handle the rescue operation once we've secured the building."
My patience, already paper-thin, snapped. "There won't be time for that. You know what O'Rourke does to the people he takes. You know how he operates."
I pulled up another security feed, this one showing Denton's two remaining men trying to break through a door I'd sealed. They'd be through in minutes.
