Page 153 of Fallen Empire

“Not yet,” he muttered, but it didn’t matter. The damage was already done. I’d seen enough. I knew exactly who was in that chair, and I wasn’t leaving without her.

“Let fucking go of me, Jax,” I seethed through my teeth.

“We can’t go in like that, brother.” His voice was steady, but I could hear the strain beneath it. “Vannah’s right beside her, and I want to just as much as you. But we can’t risk losing them—or any of us.”

“Then what the fuck do we do?” My pulse hammered in my ears. I was tired of waiting. Tired of being on the outside of every fight that mattered. Tired of someone else holding the upper hand when it came to the lives of the people I cared for.

The people I fucking loved.

Jax’s eyes cut to mine for half a second before he started signing.Move down. Wall left.

I nodded, catching the rest. Reaper ahead on the right. He slid forward in a low crouch, rifle tight to his shoulder, the suppressor dulling the faint gleam from our optics.

We hugged the walls of the hall, my boots silent over the grit-coated concrete. Reaper took each opening on his side one by one, the thermals useless against solid structure. He paused just long enough for a sweep. Two rooms cleared, and then we moved on.

Reaper crossed to the left, and we slid into his position on the right. He was already at the opening, just a shadow framed in the doorway. A quick glance over his shoulder, then his hands moved. Signals sharp and deliberate.

No eyes on him in the thermals.

Inside, our main target—Koslov, no doubt—stood with his back to us.

Reaper moved first, clearing the right with a smooth sweep. I cut left, weapon high, every step drilled into muscle memory.

The only thing Koslov saw were bodies dropping, one after another, silent except for the dull thud of gear hitting concrete.

An arm jerked up in my periphery and one sharp crack split the air. Not ours. We all had suppressors.

Then I saw her.

Her head was slumped forward, hair matted to her face, blood pooling beneath the chair. My eyes tracked it up—red pouring down her thigh in thick rivulets, darkening her jeans. The smell hit me, sharp iron in the air.

My rifle shifted, sight lining up with him. One squeeze and—

Koslov moved, jerking her upright, the barrel of his pistol pressing to her temple.

I didn’t even have time to adjust before heat and pain exploded against my chest. It was like a sledgehammer had slammed into my ribs, stealing every ounce of air from my lungs. My vision speckled, black creeping in from the edges. My knees threatened to buckle, but I locked them in place, forcing my weapon to stay trained on him.

A second blast ripped through the space, louder in my skull than in the room. The impact tore into my left shoulder, spinning me backward and sending my weapon clattering to the floor.

My arm went numb, fire radiating all the way down to my fingertips.

From the floor, I watched as another shot rang out, slamming into Jaxson’s chest, the force snapping him backward.

Then another, ripped through the back of his leg, and blood sprayed against the concrete in a violent arc.

I rolled, gun in hand, sighting the bastard who’d fired. My finger squeezed the trigger, the recoil punching up my arm as the shot landed.

We were both down now, Jaxson bleeding, my shoulder on fire, my chest aching with every breath.

Only Koslov and Reaper were left standing.

Blood seeped around me, sticky and warm, the metallic tang filling my nose.

“It’s a shame you didn’t stay on this side, Knox.”

The name hit the air like a live wire. Jax didn’t move, but the flicker in his eyes told me Koslov had landed something sharp.

“You never told him, did you?” Koslov’s voice was almost calm, like he had all the time in the world. “How many lives you traded for your cover? How deep you were in before you decided to burn me? Tell him, Knox. Tell him about Costa. About the bodies you stepped over to get here.”