The threat hangs in the air.
I don't lower my weapon.
Neither does Zakhar.
Neither does Alexei.
We've faced death before. Threatened. Outmaneuvered. Stood at the edge of extinction and refused to blink.
But this is different.
This is Victoria.
Ramiz's finger tightens on the trigger.
Then a hand touches my shoulder from behind.
I drop into a crouch on pure instinct, weapon tracking, body moving before thought catches up.
Behind me, Luan Krasniqi stands with his gun raised.
Pointed at his father.
Ramiz sees him. His eyes widen. The gun wavers, just slightly, away from Victoria's head.
"Luan?" His voice cracks on the name.
Something passes between them. Something wordless and final. A conversation conducted in silence, in the space between heartbeats.
Then Luan pulls the trigger.
The gunshot is deafening in the enclosed space.
Ramiz staggers backward, eyes wide with shock and betrayal. Blood blooms across his chest, dark against white shirt. His grip on Victoria loosens.
She tears free.
I'm moving towards her. Zakhar and Alexei with me, three bodies converging on her with singular focus.
My hands find her shoulders. Her arms. Her face. Checking for injuries, for blood, for any sign that we're too late.
She's crying, hands clutching at my jacket, my shirt, anything she can reach.
"I'm okay," she gasps. "I'm okay, I'm okay."
But she's trembling. Shaking so hard her teeth chatter.
Zakhar's hands join mine, steadying her. Alexei presses close, creating a wall of protection around her with our bodies.
"You're safe," I tell her. My voice sounds strange. "We have you. You're safe."
She buries her face against my chest and sobs.
Behind us, Ramiz draws his last breath. The sound wet and final.
Luan stands over him, gun lowered now, face expressionless.
For a long moment, no one moves.
