Page 27

Amelia

I had chosen North. Kabir would be taking the South.

I didn’t have time to be fast. I needed to be a diversion. And I needed to play it right.

My heels clicked softly on the marble steps as I ascended, pulse steady but breath tight. I could still feel the phantom weight of Kabir’s fingers brushing mine when I handed him my gun, before we split up.

The bathroom was just past the stairwell. I slipped in, locked the door behind me, and braced my back against it. One hand on my stomach.

My breath came out ragged.

Come on, Falcon. Smile. Sway. You’re drunk. You’re lost. You’re harmless.

I waited ten seconds.

Then I stepped back into the hall.

And froze.

Six men in tuxedos. Spread out—wide, but deliberate. Strategic spacing.

Not guests. The unknowns. Every one of them had the same bulge beneath their jackets, too perfectly positioned to be anything but firearms. Suppressed weapons, likely. Nothing loud. Nothing messy. My kind of enemy.

Their eyes cut to me the second I appeared. Predatory. Assessing.

“Oh!” I feigned a stumble. My voice high-pitched, breathy. “Shit. This isn’t the powder room, is it?”

The one in front, tall, slick hair, Eastern European features. Cold eyes.

He said nothing.

One on the left adjusted his stance. Subtle. But enough for me to catch it—he was resting his palm over the hilt of his hidden Glock.

Another took a step closer. Eyes on my legs. On the slit in my dress. That one? He’d be the first to go if I could help it.

“I’m looking for the…the ballroom?” I slurred, tilting my head in mock confusion. “This place is like a damn maze.”

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Slick finally said.

I blinked. “Oh… sorry? I just—wait, can one of you help me back?”

“We’ll have to search you first.”

That did it.

Fucking bastards.

Wait… I needed to look scared.

I staggered back a little, eyes wide, lips parting. “What? No, I—I don’t think that’s—”

A hand gripped my upper arm. Fast. From behind.

And instinct kicked in.

My elbow slammed backward into the guy’s nose. I heard cartilage crunch. He cursed, let go, stumbled back.

Shit. Reflex.

They knew now.

“Questa è lei,” one barked. Their movements tightened instantly.

“Fuck it,” I hissed under my breath.

One drew his gun.

I kicked it out of his hand.

The next one lunged—I pivoted, grabbed his wrist, twisted. The gun discharged once into the floor, silenced. I took his weapon and fired at the one closest to me.

Chest. Clean hit.

Five left.

A fist connected with my jaw. My head whipped sideways, pain blooming up my temple.

“Goddamn it,” I spat blood.

Another grabbed my waist. I slammed my heel into his shin and elbowed his solar plexus. He buckled. I turned, used the fallen man’s body to pivot, kicked out at the next attacker’s leg.

I could hear my own breathing now. Rapid. Controlled.

Adrenaline sang in my veins.

But they were trained too.

They all came at once. Someone wrenched my arm behind my back—too strong. I screamed. The other ripped at my dress.

The sound of silk tearing echoed like a gunshot in my head.

I growled. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

They didn’t care.

My knee connected with one groin. The hold loosened. I broke free—but not in time.

Pop.

A muffled shot. My chest jerked.

I staggered.

Looked down.

Blood bloomed across my bodice.

“Fuck…”

I collapsed.

Marble was cold. My limbs were colder.

I’d never been shot before.

Fuck.

Footsteps circled me. A voice called, “Tango down. Prep a cell. Move fast.”

Cell?

No.

My lips trembled.

I blinked once, twice—vision swimming.

And then—five shots.

Crisp. Sharp.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

I knew those shots.

I knew that rhythm.

He came back.

I blinked through the haze—blood stinging my lashes, my vision splitting at the seams.

The five men were now sprawled across the marble, identical holes blooming in the center of their foreheads.

Three seconds.

Five shots.

Not one miss.

Kabir looked like he was unraveling.

Not the quiet, sarcastic genius with the lowest kill count. No . In his place stood a goddamn reckoning—loaded, locked, and absolutely fucking feral.

He didn’t just look dangerous—he looked like he invented the art of violence and came back to perfect it.

But the blood loss was real because soon his hurried steps faded into a muffled sob.

Mine or his?

I didn’t know.

He dropped to his knees beside me, hands reaching but not touching, like even the air between us could hurt.

“Fuck—fuck, Lia.” His voice cracked.

He shrugged off his tux jacket, yanked it off so violently I thought he might rip the seams. In the same breath, he pressed it against my chest, right over the blooming wound. The pressure made me hiss, and his face crumpled.

“No, no, no—don’t—don’t do that. Don’t make any sound.”

His hands were trembling. Kabir Gill. Trembling.

I tried to move, to touch him, tell him I was okay, but my limbs felt like they belonged to someone else. My body was shutting down one system at a time, but my brain… it was watching him unravel.

He was sobbing. Silently at first, then audibly.

“Stay with me,” he whispered, over and over again. “Please. Please. Please .”

He pressed the jacket tighter. “Titan, this is Cipher. Falcon’s down. I repeat—Falcon is down and bleeding. I need extraction. Now.”

Static answered him.

“Shadow, do you copy?” His voice turned ragged. “Delara, I need you to answer. Lia’s been shot. Please—she’s been shot.”

He ended on a sob. His hand slipped over my cheek, thumb smearing something wet across my temple. “It’s okay, baby. Just keep your eyes open. Just—just breathe, okay? You can do that. You always fucking do that.”

I wanted to tell him I was trying. I really was. But my mouth wouldn’t form words. The pain should’ve been worse. But it wasn’t.

Weird.

His face hovered above mine, eyes frantic, blood on his shirt now. My blood.

“Come on,” he begged. “Don’t leave me like this. You’re not allowed to leave me.”

A sob broke through him, raw and terrifying. I’d never seen him like this.

His hand found mine, wrapped it in his, tight, desperate. “You can’t leave me, Heer . You hear me? You can’t fucking leave me .”

His voice was almost angry now.

Wait.

That word.

That name.

Heer .

I loved it when he called me that.

I wanted to tell him. I’d never told him.

But then, something shifted in me.

The pain was… gone?

The pressure on my chest faded into a distant throb. My body was weightless now. Light.

The world blurred at the edges, but I wasn’t scared anymore.

I looked up at him—Kabir, crying, holding me like I was made of glass. Shaking like he could stop death itself with his bare hands.

He saw the shift in me, I believed.

His chant was becoming distant. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

He was sobbing again. I could see it, but I couldn’t hear it anymore.

Why was he crying like that?

Everything was fine now.

The pain was gone.

Why was he making a b ig d eal o ut of th is?