Page 71 of Pregnant By A Rich Demon 3

Victor saw it first.

The tide turning. Kaisen’s soldiers flooding in from the back entrance, weapons raised, moving with precision. The killbox he’d designed was collapsing.

He grabbed Rahsaan by the arm and yanked him toward the side exit—a rusted door half-hidden behind stacked pallets.

“We’re done here,” Victor said, his voice clipped.

Rahsaan resisted for half a second, his eyes still locked on me across the warehouse floor, that sick smile still on his face even with blood running down his arm.

“This ain’t over, Amai!” he shouted.

And then they were gone.

Disappeared into the night like smoke.

I wanted to chase them. Wanted to put bullets in both their backs and watch them bleed out on the concrete.

But Winston was heavy in my arms, his breathing shallow, and Kaisen’s soldiers were already moving to secure the perimeter.

“Get them out!” Kaisen shouted, and his men opened fire. “Move!” Kaisen barked, and two of his men flanked me, providing cover as I dragged Winston toward the exit.

Bullets still flew—Victor’s remaining men trying to buy their boss time to escape—but Kaisen’s crew was better trained. More disciplined.

One by one, Victor’s soldiers dropped or retreated.

By the time we reached the back door, the warehouse had gone quiet except for the ringing in my ears and the ragged sound of Winston’s breathing.

Kaisen was already at the SUV, the back door open, his face grim.

“Get him in,” he said, stepping aside.

I half-carried, half-dragged Winston into the backseat. His hand was still pressed against his side, blood soaking through his shirt, dripping onto the leather.

“I’m fine,” Winston muttered, but his voice was weak. Strained.

“You’re not fine,” I said flatly. “You’re bleeding out.”

“I’ve had worse.”

Kaisen climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine. I slid into the passenger seat, my gun still in my hand, my body still vibrating with adrenaline.

Our eyes met in the rearview mirror.

Just for a second.

But in that second, something shifted.

Years of tension. Years of competition, resentment, jealousy. Years of Winston pitting us against each other, making us fight for scraps of approval.

All of it dissolved.

Because we’d just survived a war zone together.

Because Kaisen had shown up when it mattered.

Because, for the first time in our lives, we’d fought with each other instead of against each other.

Kaisen’s jaw tightened, and he gave me a single nod.