Every instinct screams that this could be a setup. That walking deeper into the house, away from the known exit, is tactically insane.
But the alternative is the front door. Where Ramiz's ambush is waiting.
"Lead the way," I say, making the decision that could get us all killed.
Luan moves through the house with the confidence of someone who knows every corridor, every shortcut, every secret. We follow him through the kitchen where staff bustle and pretend not to notice four people in formal wear moving through their workspace like ghosts.
The back door opens to a garden path. Manicured hedges on both sides, tall enough to hide us from view but also to conceal threats. The night air is cool against my skin after the heat of the house, and I can hear the party continuing behind us, oblivious to the violence that almost erupted.
Victoria's hand in mine is the only thing keeping me grounded. The only anchor in a situation spiraling rapidly out of my control.
I should trust my tactical training. Should be calculating angles and exit strategies and backup plans.
Instead, I'm hyperaware of her breathing, her pulse, the way her fingers tighten on mine every few steps like she's afraid I'll let go.
Luan leads us to a gate at the far end of the garden. Punches in a code. The electronic lock beeps once, too loud in the quiet night.
The gate swings open.
And there, exactly where Luan said they'd be, are our SUVs. Engines running. Security alert and ready.
Relief floods through me, sharp and immediate.
"Thank you," I say to Luan, meaning it despite the suspicion still coiling in my gut.
"You owe me," he replies, voice carrying the weight of future debt. "I'll collect. Soon."
I nod once. The devil's bargain accepted.
We move toward the SUVs. Zakhar opens the rear door of the first one, and I guide Victoria inside. Alexei follows, then Zakhar, and finally me.
The door slams shut with a solid thunk that sounds like safety, if only temporary.
The driver doesn't wait for instructions. Just pulls away from the Krasniqi estate, the second SUV falling into formation behind us.
I look down at my hand.
Victoria's fingers are still intertwined with mine. Her grip hasn't loosened. If anything, it's tighter now than it was in the house.
I should let go. Should restore distance. Should rebuild the walls between us that keep crumbling every time she's near.
I don't let go.
Can't let go.
My thumb moves without conscious decision, stroking across her knuckles in a gesture that's more intimate than any kiss we've shared.
I look at Victoria.
She didn't obey tonight. Didn't stay by the pool with the other women like she was supposed to.
She protected us. With strategy instead of force, with performance instead of violence.
No one has ever done that before. Protected me. Saved me.
I've always been the one who saves others.
The realization hits with terrifying clarity.
