Click.
Nothing.
A third time, his hand shaking now with rage.
Click.
Empty. The gun is empty.
Relief and fury explode through my chest with such force I can barely breathe.
My legs are moving before my brain catches up, closing the distance between us as Sophia twists in Adrian’s grip.
She’s magnificent in her rage, all claws and teeth as she drives her elbow into his ribs with a satisfying crack.
Adrian stumbles back, and Sophia breaks free, scrambling away from him.
Our eyes meet for a split second, and I see the warrior she’s become, a woman forged in fire and blood.
“Get Melinda out!” I roar at Marco, who’s already moving toward the bound woman in the corner.
Adrian recovers faster than I expect, pulling a knife from his belt.
The blade gleams under the harsh warehouse lights as he lunges at me.
I sidestep, my own knife appearing in my hand like an old friend. We’ve done this dance before, Adrian and I.
Years ago, when I gave him that scar across his throat.
This time, I’ll finish what I started.
“You should have killed me when you had the chance,” Adrian snarls, circling me like a predator.
Blood seeps from where Sophia’s head connected with his nose, staining his expensive suit.
“I’m correcting that mistake now.” My voice is cold, empty of everything except the promise of death.
In my peripheral vision, Sophia rushes to Melinda’s chair.
Her hands work frantically at the ropes binding her friend, and I force myself not to look directly at her.
I can’t afford the distraction.
Not now.
We clash in a fury of steel and violence.
His blade slices across my forearm, and I feel the hot sting of torn flesh. I ignore it, driving my knife toward his ribs.
He blocks, but not fast enough.
The tip catches his side, drawing a line of crimson through the expensive fabric.
“You’re getting slow,” I taunt, circling him.
My shoulder throbs where the bullet wound is still raw and healing, but adrenaline drowns out the pain.
“And you’re distracted.” Adrian’s eyes flick toward Sophia, who’s helping Marco cut Melinda free.
