The silence in the grand foyer was so heavy you could hear the soft, frantic ticking of Vanessa’s diamond-encrusted wristwatch. I didn’t put my coat back on.

I lunged forward instantly, sweeping Victoria’s legs out from under her with a low kick. She hit the steel floor hard, but she was a trained operative—she rolled, drew a sidearm from her thigh holster, and fired two shots at my torso.

I ducked behind the vault scanner pedestal as the bullets ricocheted off the reinforced plating.

"Marcus! Cover the elevator!" I shouted over the deafening roar of automatic gunfire.

Marcus was a force of nature. Standing six-foot-four, he advanced down the catwalk like an armored tank, laying down heavy suppression fire that drove the remaining Black-Shield mercenaries back into the secondary security chambers.

Henrik Vane, seeing his chance to escape amidst the chaos, crawled frantically toward the open elevator car.

"Vane!" I yelled, leaping over the scanner pedestal.

Victoria intercepted me, tackling me against the steel catwalk railing. We tumbled across the floor, exchanging brutal, close-quarters strikes. She drove an elbow into my wounded shoulder, sending a surge of blinding pain through my body, but I locked my forearm around her neck, using a sleeper hold to neutralize her leverage.

"It’s over, Victoria!" I growled into her ear, tightening my grip.

She gasped for air, struggling frantically against my arm before reaching down to her boot to pull a concealed combat knife. She drove the blade backward into my side!

The cold steel bit deep into my ribs.

I gritted my teeth through the agonizing pain, roared with pure rage, and slammed her head back against the steel floor. Her body went limp, and the knife slipped from her fingers.

I pulled myself up, clutching my bleeding side, gasping for breath. Blood was soaking through my tuxedo shirt, dripping onto the cold metal catwalk.

Across the corridor, Vane had managed to get inside the elevator car and was smashing his palm against the door-close button.

"Daniel!" Marcus yelled, tossing me a spare tactical sidearm.

I caught the gun in mid-air, turned toward the elevator, and fired three precise shots through the glass door panels.

The rounds shattered the reinforced glass. The elevator car ground to a screeching halt as the emergency mechanical brakes engaged, locking Vane inside six feet above the vault floor.

I dragged myself over to the elevator, pulled the shattered door open, and hauled Vane out by his collar, dragging him across the floor until we were both standing directly in front of the Vault 108 biometric panel.

"Open it," I rasped, my breath ragged, my blood pooling on the floor beneath us.