Bullets tore through crates. Sparks exploded from metal beams. Bodies crashed into the concrete around me. I saw blood spray across the floor in violent arcs.
Then—
Him.
Ruslan.
Even through the haze of smoke and panic, I recognized him instantly.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dark coat flaring behind him like the wings of a predator descending. His face was set in cold fury, jaw tight, eyes burning with something lethal.
He didn’t shout my name.
He simply killed.
Efficient. Brutal. Precise.
Men fell around him as though death itself had taken human form. My brothers stormed in from the opposite side, their forces merging with his.
The masked man’s crew had fought back savagely, automatic weapons blazing in relentless bursts.
Horror had rooted me to the spot.
Bound to the steel pillar in the center of the warehouse, I could do nothing but watch.
The ropes around my wrists had long since cut through skin. My hands were numb, fingers tingling uselessly, but I still strained against the restraints as chaos swallowed the room.
One of Ruslan’s men—tall, broad, someone I vaguely remembered from the estate— had jerked violently as a bullet tore into his chest.
His body snapped backward, then collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut. He didn’t even have time to scream.
I flinched.
Luca.
My third brother.
He had roared—at least I saw the roar shape his mouth—as he lunged forward, blade flashing in the dim light.
He had moved recklessly, fury overriding caution. For a second, I thought he would reach the man who’d fired the shot.
Then steel met flesh.
An enemy sword slashed across Luca’s arm. Blood sprayed in a sharp arc, dark and vivid against the gray concrete.
He staggered but didn’t fall. His teeth bared.
But, one by one, the masked man’s soldiers dropped. Throats slit. Heads bashed. Bodies riddled with bullets. The air thickened with the copper stench of slaughter, so dense it felt like breathing through liquid metal.
The floor became slick.
My brothers fought harder.
More viciously.
Until—
Silence.
