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"Top floor!" he gasped, young face twisted in pain. "Office. Got the girl."

The girl. Not her name, not a person. Just the girl. Property to be retrieved or discarded.

"Anyone else?" I pressed harder, feeling bones grind. "Your money man? The traitor who delivered her?"

His eyes flickered with that specific fear that meant truth. "Gone. Left right before you hit. Said his job was done."

Eddie. Alive and running like the cockroach he was. I had to focus on Lena for now.

"CRUZ! VENOM!" My voice carried over the combat noise, parade ground volume that cut through everything. "SHOW YOURSELF!"

For a moment, the gunfire paused. Both sides processing the challenge, the gauntlet thrown. Then, from somewhere above:

"Up here, soldier boy! Got something you want!"

The words dripped arrogance and ownership. Cruz, playing games while my girl was trapped in his web. Time to teach him why some games had deadly stakes.

The upper office was a tactical nightmare. One entrance, no cover, windows painted black from inside. Cruz had turned his last stand into a killing box, and he had the one thing that would make me walk into it.

I took the stairs two at a time, brothers covering angles behind me. The door hung open—invitation and trap combined. Through it, I could see overturned furniture, papers scattered like snow, and in the far corner...

Her.

The first sight of Lena hit harder than any bullet. Bruises painted her face in purple and yellow, blood dried at the corner of her mouth. But her eyes—Christ, her eyes burned with fury that made my chest tight with savage pride.

She was bowed but not broken. Bloodied but not beaten.

Cruz had one arm wrapped around her throat, the other pressing a Glock to her temple. His perfect appearance had shattered—suit torn, hair wild, movements twitchy with desperation. This wasn't the controlled predator from her stories. This was a cornered animal.

"Drop the weapons or I decorate the wall with her brains," he demanded, words tumbling over each other.

I set my rifle down slowly, keeping my movements visible and non-threatening. The pistol at my back stayed hidden, along with the knife in my boot. "Let her go. This is between us."

"Everything's between us!" Cruz's laugh had edges like broken bottles. "You took her. Corrupted her. Look what you've done to my perfect doll!"

"Not. Your. Doll." Each word from Lena came out raw but strong, defiance despite the gun at her head.

Cruz tightened his grip, making her gasp. "Still that mouth. Even now, even with a gun to your head, you can't just behave."

"Must be frustrating," I said, taking a careful step closer. "All that money, all that power, and you still can't make her want you."

His face flushed ugly red. "She loved me!"

"I feared you." Lena's voice cracked but didn't break. "Never loved. Never wanted. Just survived."

"Shut up!" The gun wavered as his control frayed. "You'll learn again. Once he's dead, once you understand there's nowhere to run, you'll remember how good we were."

"She's right," I said conversationally. "You know she is. All that money, all that manipulation, and she still chose a biker over you. Must sting."

"I gave her everything!" Spittle flew from his lips. "Culture! Refinement! A life above her st—"

But he never had time to finish the sentence.

I watched as Lena's heel drove down into his instep with enough force to crack bone. As he howled and loosened his grip, her elbow found his ribs. Her head snapped back into his nose with a wet crunch that sprayed blood.

The gun wavered, pointing at empty air.

I crossed the space in two strides, muscle memory taking over. My hand trapped his wrist, squeezing until bones ground together. The gun clattered away as I spun him, driving him face-first into the wall hard enough to leave a dent.