Professionals.
My grip tightens on my gun as I step over one of the bodies and push her door open.
I expect chaos.
Fear.
Maybe an empty room.
Instead—
I freeze.
Valeria is standing in the middle of it.
Alive.
Breathing hard.
Unbroken.
Around her, several intruders lie sprawled across the floor, their weapons scattered, their blood pooling beneath them. One near the wall, another collapsed halfway toward the bed, a third by the door, like he never even made it inside properly.
My eyes flick over the scene, assessing in seconds.
Entry points. Positions. Angles of attack.
Then back to her.
This wasn’t survival by luck.
She didn’t hide.
She didn’t wait.
She fought.
And she won.
Something shifts in my chest—sharp, unexpected. Not surprise. Not exactly.
Recognition.
I straighten slowly, my gaze locking onto hers. “…you killed them.”
It’s not a question.
Because the evidence is right in front of me.
And for the first time since she walked into my world, I stop seeing Valeria Petrova as someone I need to protect.
I start seeing her as something far more dangerous.
“I told you I’m not a damsel in distress,” she says.
Her voice is steady, but I catch it—the slight edge beneath it. Adrenaline. Aftershock. She’s still coming down from the fight, even if she refuses to show it fully.
Footsteps sound behind me.
