I shake my head, but the amusement fades as I look past him, past Spalding, past the agents still arguing logistics.
Astrid’s sitting on the bumper of the medic van, a blanket draped around her shoulders. A paramedic is crouched beside her, checking vitals, calmly speaking. She’s half-listening at best; her eyes keep drifting, scanning the chaos, searching for me.
My breath catches painfully in my chest. There’s blood on her shirt. Her lip is split. Her wrists are red and raw from the restraints. But she’s upright. She’s breathing.
She’s alive.
The instinct to go to her is overwhelming, primal. My legs twitch with the urge to close the distance, to pull her into my arms and never let her go again. But I stop myself. She needs the medics right now, not me barreling in like some wrecking ball. She needs care. Safety. A clean bill of health.
Even if every part of me is aching to hold her.
So I wait. Watching. Not because I want to. Because I have to.
The interior of the warehouse smells like gunpowder, the last wisps of smoke curling near the rafters. Cleanup crews are starting to arrive, quiet footsteps and clipped radios moving through the wreckage. I find Elena first, planted near one of the exit points, headset around her neck, sleeves rolled to her elbows. She looks calm, focused.
"You good?" I ask.
She nods. “Flawless entry, minimal resistance after the breach. No injuries on our side.”
“Could’ve left us a few more to handle,” Luk mutters as he joins us, brushing dust off his jacket like this was all a minor inconvenience. “Some of us need the cardio.”
Lev appears next, silent and towering. He folds his arms across his chest. “Christian’s crew fell apart the moment they realized they were outgunned. One of them even begged for a job.”
Grigori arrives last, looking smug, a little smile playing in his eyes. “Place is clean. No signs of explosives or booby traps, which honestly feels like a missed opportunity on their part.”
I exhale slowly. For the first time in hours, my pulse starts to level.
“So,” I say, glancing at the others, “Spalding’s down. Christian’s in the wind. And we’re still standing.”
“We’re not just standing,” Elena says. “We’re stronger than we’ve ever been. The Feds will use Spalding as a bargaining chip. De la Rosa’s network just took a major hit. Half the city’s power players will be scrambling for cover.”
“We could make a real move now,” Luk suggests, eyes glinting. “Stabilize everything. Bring order. Maybe even?—”
Lev cuts in, “You sound like Papa.”
Luk shrugs, unbothered. “He wasn’t wrong about everything.”
Lev looks around the room. “Anyone seen Tatiana?”
There’s a pause. A shared silence, like we’re all realizing the same thing at once.
“She’s not here,” Elena says, frowning. “She slipped out before the shooting started.”
Lev scoffs. “Of course she did. Let Spalding play the frontman while she keeps her hands clean. If it all went sideways, she could pretend she was never involved.”
“Coward’s tactic,” I say coldly. “She wanted the power, the glory, just not the dirt under her nails.”
“She’ll try to frame this like she had no idea,” Lev mutters, disgust curling his lip.
“Lucky for us,” Elena cuts in, a glint in her eye, “we have proof she was in it up to her perfectly arched eyebrows.”
I grin. “I’ll break the news.”
“You volunteering?” Elena smirks.
“Oh, gladly,” I say. “Let’s see how she spins it when the walls close in.”
The amusement fades when I catch movement to my left. Paramedics step back, their forms parting like a curtain, revealing Astrid. She’s perched on the edge of a folded blanket now. Her face is pale but alert, hair damp and wild, a shallow scrape across her cheekbone. She’s still speaking softly to one of the medics, nodding. The moment they clear, I don’t wait. I cross the distance in long, steady strides.
