The grip around my wrist felt like a steel vise. Pain shot up my arm, sharp and immediate, as Nicholas’s fingers tightened until my pulse throbbed against his knuckles.

"How many?" Nicholas asked instantly, his voice snapping back into lethal tactical precision.

"Four SUVs," Viktor reported, pulling a tactical shotgun from the wall cabinet and racking the action. "At least twelve men. Heavy automatic weapons."

Nicholas turned to me, grabbing my hand firmly. "Viktor, take her to the safe room beneath the wine cellar. Lock the steel door from the inside."

"No!" I yelled. "I'm not leaving you!"

"Clara, listen to me!" Nicholas gripped my shoulders, his eyes fierce and unyielding. "This isn't a hospital hallway! This is a slaughterhouse! You go to the safe room, stay there until Viktor comes for you, or until the sun comes up! Do you understand me?!"

Before I could argue, heavy gunfire erupted outside.

RAT-AT-AT-AT-AT-AT!

Shattering glass echoed through the lower level as automatic rounds chewed through the front doors of the estate. The lights in the house flickered and died as the attackers cut the main power lines.

Viktor grabbed my arm, dragging me down the back hallway toward the basement stairs. I looked back over my shoulder just in time to see Nicholas pull two 9mm handguns from the desk drawer, stepping into the dark corridor like an icy shadow of death.

"Nicholas!" I screamed over the deafening roar of gunshots.

He didn't look back.

Viktor shoved me down the narrow stairs into the dark wine cellar, pulled open a hidden steel door behind a rack of aged barrels, and pushed me inside.

"Stay here, Nurse!" Viktor barked. "Don't open this door for anyone except Boss or me!"

SLAM!

The heavy steel door sealed shut, plunging me into pitch blackness.

For two terrifying hours, I sat in the cold, dark safe room, listening to the muffled, terrifying sounds of war above my head. The distant thunder of automatic rifles, the sharp cracks of handguns, the heavy thuds of bodies falling against wood floors, and the occasional explosion of grenade charges shaking the concrete foundation beneath my feet.

Every minute felt like an eternity. Every gunshot sounded like the one that might end Nicholas’s life.

Then, suddenly... silence.

The gunfire stopped. The explosions ceased. The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating, and absolute.

Minutes ticked by. Ten. Twenty. Thirty.

My phone screen glowed in the dark—04:30 AM.

No one had come for me.

Tears of dread spilled over my eyelashes. Was Nicholas dead? Had Marco’s men cleared the house? Was I trapped down here in a tomb, waiting to die of starvation?

I couldn't sit here anymore. I couldn't just wait.

I reached for the heavy iron wheel on the inside of the safe room door and turned it slowly. The heavy hinges groaned as the door swung open an inch.

The smell hit me first—the metallic, sickening stench of iron, gunpowder, and burnt wood.

I crept out into the dark wine cellar, picking up a heavy glass wine bottle as a weapon. I crept up the concrete stairs, my heart pounding in my ears like a sledgehammer.

When I stepped into the main foyer of the estate, I stopped dead in my tracks.

The grand hallway was destroyed. Marble pillars were shredded by bullet holes, crystal chandeliers lay shattered across the floor, and the walls were splattered with dark crimson blood. A dozen men in tactical gear lay motionless across the floor.

Standing in the center of the devastation, illuminated only by the faint gray light of dawn breaking through the broken windows, was Nicholas.

His black silk robe was soaked in blood—some of it his own, most of it not. He was holding a smoking handgun in his right hand, his breathing heavy and ragged. Beside him, Viktor was bandaging his own bleeding shoulder.

Nicholas turned slowly as he heard my footsteps.

When his eyes met mine, the lethal, terrifying intensity in his gaze softened slightly. He lowered the gun.

"I told you to stay in the safe room, Clara," Nicholas said, his voice raspy with exhaustion.

I dropped the wine bottle, running across the blood-stained marble floor and throwing my arms around his neck, burying my face against his chest despite the bloody cloth.

Nicholas froze in shock for a fraction of a second, before his arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me tightly against him, burying his face in my hair.

"You're alive," I sobbed against his shoulder. "You crazy, arrogant bastard, you're alive."

"I told you, Clara," Nicholas whispered against my ear, his heart beating strong and fast against my cheek. "I don't die easily."

He pulled back slightly, looking down into my eyes, his fingers gently brushing my tears away.

"The attackers are dead," Nicholas said coldly. "Marco is dead. But the man who sent them is still sitting in the presidential suite of the Drake Hotel, preparing to crown himself king tonight."