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“You’re whatever we say you are!” The doctor lunged suddenly, syringe poised above Haisley’s neck.

Nash was already moving, but he was still twenty feet away, separated by a maze of medical equipment and the thick observation window. His heart skidded to a shuddering stop. Everything slowed to terrible clarity—the glint of the needle, Haisley’s wide eyes, the distance he couldn’t cross fast enough to save her.

“No!” The desperate roar tore from his throat.

A gunshot cracked through the air. Shock blanched across Dr. Haynes’s face, replacing her cold superiority as she clutched her chest. Then slowly she crumpled to the ground.

Haisley stood with the GLOCK still raised, seemingly frozen in shock. A bruise was forming on her cheekbone, but her eyes blazed with righteous fury.

Nash burst through the door and raced for Haisley. Karliah followed him into the medical office, skidding to her knees to check the doctor’s pulse. He held his breath until the female operative shook her head.

That was it. The bad doctor was dead. Karliah took the gun from Haisley’s trembling hands.

He cupped Haisley’s face. “Are you okay?”

She looked at him, pupils dilated, terrified and lost. She was breathing too hard and trembling from head to toe. “S-she was going to drug me. Take me to Black Velvet. I couldn’t… I couldn’t let her.”

“I know. You did good. Real good. Listen, Black Velvet is?—”

“Here,” a female voice snarled from the portal.

The guards parted like a dark sea as Mila strode into the medical wing, her designer heels clicking against blood-stained linoleum. Her caramel hair was wild around her face, her evening gown splattered with blood. Gray’s? Nash hoped. But it was her eyes that stopped him cold—fever-bright with triumph and madness.

She moved with predatory grace, each step precise and measured, like a lioness cornering her prey. Guards flanked her in practiced formation, weapons raised, hemming them in from all sides.

Fuck. He should have gotten them out of here the moment Dr. Haynes went down. With every exit blocked, they were trapped in this concrete hell. His mind raced as he did a quick count. More than a dozen armed men, all with automatic weapons, plus whatever backup Mila had brought.

Against him, Karliah, and Haisley, who was still shaking from having to take her first life.

Their odds were catastrophically bad.

He scanned the room frantically for options—anything he could use as cover, a weapon, a distraction. But there was nothing. Just medical equipment and cold steel tables that wouldn’t stop bullets. They were cornered like rats in a sterile cage, and he had no way to protect Haisley or their baby.

Beside him, she gasped, horror transforming her face. “Mila? You’re…you’re Black Velvet? All those women… All those babies…”

“All that money. All that power,” Mila parroted with a snarl. “And you’re not bringing me down.”

Suddenly, gunfire erupted from all sides. Nash shoved Haisley behind a steel medical cabinet, prayed like hell, and opened fire, dropping the first guard with a head shot. The second took two in the chest before he fell.

Karliah dove behind an overturned gurney, taking out another guard with precise shots. “Nine o’clock!”

Nash spun, catching a guard trying to flank them. His shot caught the man in the throat. Blood sprayed across sterile white walls.

But for every guard they dropped, two more seemingly appeared. They were being herded away from the exits, pushed deeper into the corner. Nash counted ammunition—six rounds left. Not nearly enough.

A bullet whizzed past his ear, so close he felt the heat. Another struck the cabinet by Haisley’s head, making her flinch. His heart rattled in fear. They were running out of cover, out of options, out of time.

Through the chaos of gunfire and shattering glass, he caught a glimpse of Haisley’s copper hair as Karliah shoved her to her knees. Crouching, the female operative began guiding Haisley though the pandemonium, toward the exit—and safety. They were so close. A few more feet and…

“Stop them!” Mila’s command cut through the chaos like a blade.

Every guard in the room swiveled and trained their weapons on Haisley.

Mila crossed to them and hauled Haisley to her feet in a cruel grip. “Well, well. The noble warrior’s pregnant prize.”

Nash kept his weapon trained on her as he assessed their situation. The guards had them surrounded—six blocking the main entrance, four covering the connecting door, five flanking Mila. All armed with automatic weapons. His mind raced, calculating angles, searching for any opening that wouldn’t endanger Haisley or their child.

Rolling medical carts wouldn’t stop high-caliber rounds. The observation window was reinforced. The hallway was a killing zone. They were trapped in this sterile death chamber with a woman who’d spent years perfecting the art of breaking people.