Good.
Salazar hits the floor hard.
The room explodes a second later.
Two of his men rush from the side hallway, weapons half-drawn, adrenaline loud in their movements.
Havoc moves before they can decide anything stupid.
“Easy,” he says, voice low but carrying weight.
Sin steps into their line of sight. Viper blocks the secondary exit.
Tank’s shadow fills the doorway behind us.
Numbers change confidence.
Salazar groans on the floor, blood already at the corner of his mouth.
He laughs.
Actually fucking laughs.
“You think this solves anything?” he spits.
I step forward again, grab him by the collar, haul him up just enough to look at me.
“It solves tonight,” I say quietly.
He tries to swing.
I hit him again.
Harder.
This time he stays down.
But his men don’t.
Four more flood in from deeper inside the building. Not rushing to fight — rushing to shield.
They drag him back fast, forming a wall between us.
Weapons visible now.
It turns into a line.
Havoc’s hand lands lightly on my shoulder.
“Not here,” he murmurs.
He’s right.
This isn’t the place to turn it into a bloodbath. Not with Violet by my side.
Salazar wipes blood from his mouth, standing behind his wall of men now.
His eyes are different. Like a warning.
