Page 160 of Fallen Empire

Then—movement. Shadows cutting through the chaos. Figures in full armor, heads completely covered, moving with a precision I’d only seen in movies. They didn’t shout. They didn’t stumble. They moved like they already owned the room.

Men started dropping. Fast. One of Aleksei’s went down before I could blink, a clean shot straight through his chest. Then another. My eyes darted frantically, trying to spot Ben, Jaxson, Reaper—but every time one of the armored men passed into my line of sight, my stomach clenched. I couldn’t tell if they were here for us… or for him.

The deafening chop of the helicopter blades pressed down harder, the sound mixing with the staccato bursts of gunfire until my ears throbbed. Shouting came from somewhere beyond the chaos—the voice was familiar, sharp and commanding—but I couldn’t make out the words.

Another body hit the ground. And then Aleksei moved.

He dropped into a seated sprawl, dragging Savannah with him, her limp body pulled flush against his chest. His legs hooked around her, locking her in place. One arm clamped across her torso; the other brought the gun back up to her temple.

“Not another step!” he barked, and the room seemed to freeze. The armored men slowed, weapons trained, but no one fired.

My chest tightened until I could barely breathe. Every muscle in me screamed to move, to get between them, but the ropes bit in deeper, holding me there. I couldn’t tell if the pounding in my ears was fear, or the countdown to the moment he pulled that trigger.

I thought he’d already done it. Thought I’d already lost her all over again. But the more I looked, his shoulder was covered in blood, sprayed across his face. It wasn’t Savannah that took the bullet. It was Aleksei.

I looked back to Ben, who was now wielding his on gun. Same lethal stance that Jax and Reaper had, guns trained at Aleksei’s head.

It wasn’t Savannah who took the bullet.

It was Aleksei.

But the bastard didn’t loosen his grip. Blood poured down his shoulder, soaking into her hair, but the gun at her temple never wavered.

“Let her go,” Jaxson said, his voice cold enough to cut glass.

Aleksei smirked, teeth streaked red. “Still giving orders like you’re the one in control. You never could admit when you’d lost, Knox.”

“This isn’t your win,” Jaxson shot back. “It never was.”

Aleksei’s laugh was low, ugly. “Tell that to her when you’re burying her next to the others.” He tilted his head towardSavannah. “Though I have to say… you do pick them well. Pretty. Strong. Stupid enough to believe you’re the hero.”

Ben took half a step forward, his jaw tight, but Aleksei yanked Savannah back against him hard enough to draw a pained gasp from her.

“You’ve been bleeding out since the day we met,” Jaxson said. “Difference is, I don’t have to hide it behind a gun.”

“Oh, you’ll be hiding plenty when I’m done,” Aleksei sneered. “Your name. Your legacy. Every person you’ve ever tried to protect.” His gaze slid to Ben. “Starting with the ones still breathing.”

My pulse hammered in my throat. I didn’t know all of what they were talking about, but the weight in Jaxson’s voice told me this wasn’t just another job for him. This was personal.

They were circling each other with words, but the guns never lowered.

A sound cut through the air, sharp against the weight of the standoff. Footsteps. Slow. Measured. Until a tall figure entered the room.

A smile spread across Aleksei’s face. “Costa,” he drawled, his voice dripping with triumph. “Glad you’re here. I lured an old acquaintance back to you.”

The man kept walking, each step deliberate, polished shoes clicking against the concrete. His suit was immaculate, a deep charcoal that didn’t carry a speck of the chaos around him.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

Costa didn’t look at anyone else. Not anyone except Aleksei.

The room smelled of iron and smoke, heavy enough to coat my tongue. My gaze swept over the floor—bodies everywhere, sprawled in unnatural angles, blood seeping into the cracks of the concrete.

That’s when it hit me.

If the men still standing weren’t Jaxson’s… they were Costa’s.

And if they were Costa’s… then everyone else—Ben, Reaper, even me—was already dead.