“Roofline—snipers!” Lukyan’s voice cuts through the comms.
We move like one unit through the chaos—breaching, clearing, advancing. Every step forward costs something. Every second is resistance.
But I don’t stop.
I can’t.
Not when she’s inside this.
Anton obviously has too many enemies, and I don’t give a fuck about him. I have to make sure I get Valeria out of this mess. Alive.
A guard rushes at me from the side—I don’t even fully register him before he goes down. Another fires from behind cover; I return fire instantly, controlled, efficient. No wasted motion.
The estate is alive with violence now.
I push forward harder, forcing my way through collapsing defenses and panicked resistance.
“Find her!” I shout. “I don’t care what it takes—find her!”
The night answers with more gunfire.
And I move straight into it.
The mansion swallows me the moment I breach it.
Inside is worse.
Noise dampened but tighter. Gunfire echoing differently now, ricocheting through marble corridors and vaulted ceilings. Sound that turns every direction into a threat.
I don’t know this place. Not really. Not like they do. But I don’t need to. I move on instinct, on pressure, on one thing alone pulling me forward.
Valeria. I have to find her.
I take the stairs two at a time, gun raised, clearing corners as I go. Two men appear at the landing—gone before they can react. No pause. No delay.
Then I break through the top level.
And I see her.
She’s standing in the grand hall, a gun in her hand, two dead men at her feet. For half a second, everything in me stops.
Not because of doubt.
Because of relief so sharp it almost knocks the breath out of me.
Then I move.
Fast.
I cross the distance between us in seconds and pull her into me. No hesitation. No control left to filter it through.
My arms wrap around her tightly, anchoring her against my chest like I’m checking she’s real.
She doesn’t resist. She melts into me immediately, the tension leaving her body in a way I feel more than I see.
My hand moves to the back of her head instinctively, holding her there. Protecting her. Blocking everything else out for one second longer than I should be allowed.
“I’ve got you,” I breathe out, voice lower now. Rough. Controlled—but barely.
