The night was deceptively quiet. The storm had passed, leaving the city soaked in silver light, its streets slick and gleaming like glass. Elena sat near the safehouse fireplace, wrapped in uneasy silence, her thoughts tangled in Adrian’s vow.

He’d disappeared into another room hours ago, leaving her with too much time to think. His words replayed in her head, burning like embers: I’ll paint the city in blood if that’s what it takes.

She wanted to hate him for it. But the truth was far more dangerous—some part of her believed him.

Her fingers tightened on the blanket. Maybe too much.

The faintest creak pulled her from her thoughts.

Her head snapped toward the window. At first, nothing. Just rain dripping from the roof. Then—a shadow shifted against the wall.

Her heart stumbled. She rose slowly, her breath catching.

The glass shattered before she could scream.

A figure burst through the window, all darkness and speed. Hands seized her wrists, dragging her back, silencing her cry.

“Hello, little dove,” a familiar voice murmured against her ear, low and cold. Damien.

Her blood froze. He smelled of smoke and steel, his grip iron around her.

“You thought you were safe?” His chuckle was soft, chilling. “You should know better. He can’t cage you forever.”

Elena thrashed, panic surging through her. “Let me go!”

Damien’s lips brushed her temple in mockery. “Not a chance. You don’t belong in his chains. You belong in mine.”

Before she could answer, the door at the end of the hall burst open.

Adrian.

His gun was drawn, his eyes blazing with a fury so raw it nearly swallowed the room. “Damien.”

The brothers’ gazes locked, the air sparking with hatred.

Damien’s smirk widened, his arm tightening around Elena’s waist like a collar.

“Careful, brother. Pull that trigger, and she takes the first bullet.”

Elena’s chest heaved, trapped between them, her pulse drumming in her ears.

Adrian’s finger flexed against the trigger, but his voice was steady—deadly.

“Then you’ll die before your next breath.”

Damien laughed, low and sharp. “You really think you can protect her from me forever? She’ll see it soon enough. You’re not her savior, Adrian—you’re just another prison.”

His words sliced the air, and for a heartbeat, Elena saw the truth: he wasn’t just trying to take her. He was trying to break Adrian.

And in that moment, she realized—this was no longer about her freedom.

This was war.