The first guard never saw us coming.
Dmitri dropped him with a knife to the throat. So fast and quiet that the man didn't even have time to cry out. He just collapsed in a heap while blood pooled dark beneath him.
The second guard was smarter. He saw us approaching and went for his radio. Ash put two rounds in his chest before his thumb hit the transmit button.
Then all hell broke loose.
Gunfire erupted from three different positions. The muzzle flashes lit up the darkness in strobing patterns that turned the world into fractured snapshots of violence. Bullets chewed through concrete and metal, sent shrapnel flying in every direction while we dove for cover behind a rusted loader.
“More than seven,” Dmitri shouted over the chaos. “Rafael prepared for an assault.”
“Then we give him one.” Luka returned fire with controlled bursts that forced the shooters back into defensive positions. “Ash, flank left. Dmitri, suppressing fire. Declan, stay low and follow me.”
We pushed forward through the hail of bullets that felt like walking through a storm made of lead and death. My body screamed at me to stop. To find cover and wait for the professionals to handle this. But I kept moving because stopping meant giving up, and I'd rather die than leave Troy in Rafael's hands one second longer than necessary.
A man stepped out from behind a shipping container ten feet ahead and raised his weapon. I pulled the trigger three times before conscious thought caught up with instinct. I watched him go down in a spray of red that painted the concrete behind him.
I'd just killed a man.
The thought should have horrified me. Instead I just kept moving.
We fought our way through the warehouse in brutal increments. Room by room. Corridor by corridor. Bodies piled up behind us while gunsmoke turned the air thick and choking. Dmitri moved like a machine designed for killing. Ash fought with surgical precision. Luka coordinated it all with calm that came from doing this too many times to count.
And I just tried not to die.
My vision blurred at the edges from the concussion. My hands shook from adrenaline and blood loss and exhaustion. Every breath felt like broken glass in my lungs. But I kept going because somewhere in this hell Troy was waiting, and I'd burn through every last reserve of strength before I let Rafael take him from me.
We found the stairs leading to the basement.
Dmitri went down first. Cleared the landing. Signaled all clear.
We followed into a narrow corridor lit by flickering fluorescent lights that made everything look like a nightmare given physical form.
The smell hit me first. Damp concrete. Mold. And underneath it all, the metallic tang of blood.
“Troy,” I called out. My voice echoed off the walls. “Troy, we're here.”
No response.
We moved faster. We checked rooms that turned out empty. We pushed deeper into the basement until we reached a heavy metal door at the end of the corridor.
It was locked from the outside.
Dmitri shot the lock and kicked the door open. We flooded into the room with weapons raised.
And found him.
Troy was chained to the floor. Shirtless and unconscious. His skin was pale except where bruises bloomed dark across his ribs and face. Water pooled around him on the concrete. His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths that suggested he was alive but barely.
The sight hit me like a fist to the throat.
I started toward him. I got maybe three steps before Rafael stepped out from the shadows behind the door.
“I was wondering when you'd arrive,” he said calmly. His eyes locked on Luka with an intensity that made the temperature in the room drop. “Hello, Luka. It's been a while.”
“Rafael.” Luka's voice stayed level, but I could see the tension in his shoulders. “Let him go. This is between us.”
“Oh, I intend to finish what's between us.” Rafael smiled, cold and sharp. “But first, you're going to watch me break everything you've built. Starting with your precious protégé's stepfather.”
