Vincent’s dark eyes locked onto hers, cold and calculated, yet burning with an unreadable intensity. The bass continued to thump through the velvet-lined walls of the club, but in their small orbit, time had entirely stopped.

The night hit a boiling point when Rossi hastily left the gala, his phone buzzing violently with emergency calls from his lieutenants. Nora’s bluff—fueled by a piece of intelligence she had overheard Vincent’s guards discussing earlier that afternoon—had struck Rossi right where it hurt.

As they drove back to the estate, the silence inside the SUV was thick with tension. Nora stared out the window, watching the city lights blur into streaks of yellow and red in the rain.

“Where did you learn to play like that?” Vincent asked softly, breaking the quiet.

“When you live with a abuser for two years, you learn how to read people’s vulnerabilities,” Nora said, her voice dropping. “Cameron always made me feel small. Tonight, for the first time in my life, I made a powerful man feel small.”

Vincent reached across the leather seat and wrapped his hand around hers. For the first time, his touch wasn’t protective for the sake of an audience—it was genuine.

“You’re not small, Nora. You never were.”

Suddenly, the SUV slammed on its brakes. Tires screeched against the wet asphalt.

Before Nora could scream, a heavy black delivery truck smashed violently into the side of their vehicle. The impact shattered the reinforced glass, sending tremors through the chassis.

“Ambush!” the driver yelled, drawing his weapon.

Gunfire erupted from the darkness. Bullets rattled against the armored sides of the SUV like heavy hail. Vincent immediately grabbed Nora by the back of her neck, pushing her down onto the floorboards and covering her body with his own.

“Stay down!” he ordered, drawing a sleek silver pistol from beneath his jacket.

Outside, shouting and heavy automatic gunfire echoed down the deserted avenue. Vincent kicked open his door, firing three precise shots that downed two masked shooters advancing on the car. His guards engaged the rest in a brutal, chaotic firefight.

Nora huddled on the floor, her ears ringing, her pulse hammering against her ribs. Through the shattered window, she saw a figure lurking near the rear of the truck.

It was Cameron.

He wasn't wearing a mask. He carried a heavy iron crowbar, his eyes wide, unhinged, and maniacal. He was using the chaos of Rossi’s ambush to get to her.

“Nora!” Cameron screamed over the gunfire, his voice echoing like a nightmare. “I know you’re in there! Come out, you little bitch! You belong to me!”

Cameron lunged toward the open door of the SUV, reaching in with his blood-stained hand to grab Nora’s ankles. Nora kicked out violently, her high heel striking Cameron straight in the jaw. He stumbled back, spitting blood, but his eyes burned with pure malice.

He raised the crowbar, aiming directly for her head.

BANG.

A single gunshot shattered the air. Cameron froze. He looked down at his shoulder, where a crimson stain was rapidly expanding through his jacket.