We burst through the stairwell door. Above us, I could hear more gunfire and shouting. And underneath it all, a sound that stopped my heart.
A child crying.
Leo.
I took the stairs three at a time, my escort struggling to keep up. Every instinct screamed to get to my son, to hold him, to get him somewhere safe.
The second-floor door hung open, smoke pouring through. I ran through it without hesitation.
The hallway beyond was a war zone. Bodies on the floor, bullet holes in the walls. My escort pushed ahead of me, clearing corners, checking rooms.
"Clear! Keep moving!"
Then I saw it—an open doorway at the end of the hall, light spilling out.
And standing in that doorway, Leo clutched against his chest, was Cassian.
Blood stained his shirt, his face was grim with smoke and violence, but his arms held our son with infinite gentleness.
"Mama!" Leo's scream of relief cut through everything else.
I ran. Cassian met me halfway, and suddenly we were together—Leo between us, all three of uswhole, alive.
"I've got you," Cassian said, his voice rough. "Both of you. I've got you."
Another explosion shook the building. Cassian's grip on us tightened.
"We need to move," he said. "Now. The whole place is coming down."
CHAPTER 19
Cassian
The building was dying around us.
I held Leo against my chest with one arm, my other wrapped around Isla's shoulders, guiding them through smoke and chaos.
"Stay close," I said, keeping my voice calm. "Don't let go of me."
Leo's face was buried in my neck, trembling. He'd stopped crying when I found him, had simply reached for me with complete trust.
Marco's voice crackled through my earpiece. "Boss, the south wing is clear. Path to the vehicles."
"Copy." I kicked open the emergency exit. "Down. Fast but careful."
We'd descended one flight when I heard footsteps above us.
"Cassian!" Matteo's voice echoed down the stairwell. "You think you can just walk away?"
I stopped, positioning myself between him and my family. "Isla, keep going. Don't stop until you reach Marco."
"Cassian—"
"Now." I transferred Leo to her arms. "Get him out."
She went, half-running with our son. I turned back.
Matteo stood one flight above, disheveled and wild-eyed, gun loose in his hand. Blood stained his shoulder.
