I tried again — rapid-fire.
Voicemail.
Voicemail.
Voicemail.
“Ruslan...” My voice broke as panic clawed its way up my spine.
“Please.”
I called Yannis.
No answer.
I called my six brothers — one after another — fingers shaking, eyes locked on the door that continued to shudder under impact.
Nothing.
No ringing.
No callbacks.
No response.
Someone had disrupted communications.
Or jammed signals.
The pounding intensified.
Metal.
Heavy.
Strategic.
A battering ram.
The doors vibrated violently but held — bulletproof, titanium core reinforced with internal locking mechanisms.
For now.
I moved toward the foyer, pressing my back against the wall beside the entrance.
My breath came shallow.
I forced strength into my voice.
“What do you want?”
The pounding stopped.
Silence stretched.
Then —
Harris spoke first.
