The words hung in the damp Portland air like a falling guillotine blade. "They know about him." My breath hitched. The background hum of the farmers market—the chatter of tourists, the clinking of mason jars, the distant strumming of an acoustic guitar—vanished, replaced by the deafening roar of my own terror.

The corridor outside the panic room was filled with Acrid cordite smoke and the heavy stench of copper and fear.

I crept out, clutching the Glock with both hands, my training from years of hiding under the syndicate’s radar kicking in. I wasn't just an accountant's daughter anymore. I was Daniel’s woman, whether I wanted to admit it or not, and I knew how these monsters operated.

Ahead, near the central server racks, Julian was advancing cautiously, his shotgun raised toward the shadows where Daniel had vanished.

"Come out, Daniel!" Julian sneered, stepping over a fallen crate. "Your empire is gone! Vance owns the council now! You're just a dead man walking!"

"You always talked too much, Julian," a voice cut through the darkness from above.

Julian gasped, looking up toward the catwalk.

Too late.

Daniel dropped from the iron beams directly onto Julian’s shoulders, bringing the traitor crashing down to the concrete floor in a brutal collision of bone and steel.

Before Julian could raise his weapon, Daniel drove his fist into the traitor's face with sickening force, once, twice, three times, until Julian’s screams turned into wet, ragged gurgles.

"That’s for my payroll," Daniel snarled, raising his gun to finish it.

"Boss! Look out!" Marcus yelled from across the room.

From behind a stack of shipping containers, one of Vance’s remaining hitmen stepped out, raising his rifle directly at Daniel’s unprotected back.

Daniel was still kneeling over Julian. He wouldn't turn around in time.

My breath caught. My instincts screamed.

I raised the Glock, aligned the sights through the haze of smoke, and pulled the trigger.

Bang.

The bullet caught the hitman square in the shoulder, spinning him around and sending his rifle clattering across the floor. Before he could recover, Daniel was already up, a second shot echoing through the warehouse, ending the threat instantly.

Silence fell over the warehouse, broken only by the crackle of distant flames and our heavy, ragged breathing.

Daniel spun around, his gun raised—then froze as his eyes locked onto me standing in the corridor with smoke curling from the barrel of my weapon.

For a long moment, neither of us moved.

Then, Daniel dropped his gun, crossed the distance between us in three long strides, and grabbed me by the shoulders, pulling me so hard against his chest I could feel his frantic heartbeat.

"Are you out of your mind?!" he yelled, his voice cracking with a raw, terrifying emotion. "I told you to stay in the panic room!"

"You think I was going to let them kill you?" I shouted back, burying my face in his jacket, finally letting the tears fall. "You idiot! You absolute idiot!"

Daniel pulled me tighter, burying his face in my hair, his arms trembling around me. "Don't you ever, ever do that again," he whispered fiercely against my ear.

"Clear!" Marcus’s voice echoed from the entrance. "Perimeter is secure, Boss. But Vance knows where we are now. We have to move. Now."