Page 52 of Fallen Empire (The Fallen Trilogy #2)

Millie

The shot cracked through the air like it split the world in two.

For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then everything erupted. Boots pounding, men shouting over each other, the deafening chop of the helicopter blades pressing in from above. My ears rang so hard I couldn’t tell where the noise ended and my own pulse began.

Blood sprayed across Savannah’s cheek, stark against the paleness of her skin. Her head tipped forward, going slack in Aleksei’s grip.

“Savannah!” I screamed, my voice shredding in my throat. My wrists tore against the rope cutting into them, the chair rattling on the concrete as I fought to get free. The bindings bit deeper, the wood groaning like it was laughing at me.

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 toward Savannah. “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.

My stomach twisted hard enough to make me sick. For the first time since this started, I let myself think it: none of us might make it out of here alive. Because when Costa gave the order, the guns trained on Aleksei would swing to us.

I scanned the room again, weighing the odds I didn’t want to face.

Three of ours still had guns raised. Six of theirs stood in full tactical armor, faces hidden behind black visors, unmoving except for the slight rise and fall of their chests.

The sound of breathing wasn’t mine, wasn’t Ben’s, wasn’t Jaxson’s—it was theirs.

My eyes found Costa again. He was moving with slow, unhurried steps toward Aleksei, like the chaos around them didn’t exist. His suit was flawless, dark fabric catching the low light, every step measured.

He stopped in front of Aleksei and lowered himself into a squat, bringing them eye to eye. For a moment, it felt like the rest of us had vanished—just the two of them locked in something private, dangerous.

Then Costa reached out and cupped Aleksei’s face in one hand, his thumb dragging slowly across the blood on his cheek. The gesture was almost tender, but every hair on the back of my neck rose.

“That’s not how we behave,” he said softly, like he was correcting a child. And somehow, that was worse than if he’d shouted.

Costa’s hand lingered against Aleksei’s cheek, thumb smearing the blood like it was nothing more than dirt.

Aleksei’s smile widened. “Still pretending you’re the one in charge, old man?” he rasped. “Funny… from where I’m sitting, I’m the one holding the only thing you want.”

His grip on Savannah tightened, just enough to make her head tip further against him. “You came all this way, Costa. Be a shame if I blew her brains out.”

My eyes widened. He had no idea. I’d spent years reading people, reading rooms—and from where I was sitting, Aleksei was the only person here who didn’t realize he’d already lost control.

Costa’s smile was small, almost kind. “Son,” he said, voice smooth as silk, “I didn’t come for her. I came for the man who drained money from me.”

Aleksei’s laugh came out low and ragged, teeth still streaked red. “Your little boy Knox over there is responsible for that. So I did what you asked.”

Costa didn’t react. He simply stood, brushing invisible dust from his suit jacket before slipping his hands into his pockets. Then he started walking—not toward the door.

One step.

Two steps.

His gaze never left Jaxson.

But his voice… his voice was for Aleksei.

“The man I wanted gone,” Costa said, each word slow, deliberate, “didn’t just recently shut down my cash flow.” Another step. “No… this man started years ago. Chipping away at everything I built. Every shipment. Every connection. Every dime I was owed.”

Costa stopped directly in front of Jaxson, walking right into the end of the barrel pressed to his chest. The smile that curved his mouth was faint, cold.

“Been a while, Knox,” he said, his accent thick with Italy’s south—smooth vowels drawn out, consonants clipped sharp like the edges of a blade.

I didn’t know what scared me more—that Jaxson didn’t flinch… or that Costa didn’t either.

Costa gave a tight nod before turning back around. He started pacing, slow and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world to make whatever point he was building toward.

But half the room that was still alive was bleeding out.

Pure, raging adrenaline was the only thing keeping me conscious. Every heartbeat rattled my skull, and every breath tasted of rust and pennies.

Jaxson and Ben were both still on their feet, but standing in pools of their own blood.

Jaxson’s shirt was soaked through at the side, Ben’s arm hung at an unnatural angle, his knuckles white around the grip of his gun.

Neither of them wavered, their barrels still locked on Aleksei like the world depended on it.

And maybe it did.

“I already fucking told you, old man,” Aleksei snarled, his voice cracking through the air.

“He’s the guy. He’s the one that’s been stealing what we worked for.

All those people we took—worth billions—and he waltzes in with his fancy friends, barely trained, and plays hero. Steals bodies we worked hard to get.”

He spat the words like they were poison, eyes flicking between Costa and Jaxson with that same sick pride, like he thought his crimes were trophies.

Costa snapped his tongue against his teeth, a loud tsk tsk tsk echoing through the room. “That man,” he said, tilting his head toward Jaxson, “has more power in his pinky than you’ll ever have. And he doesn’t even use it.”

He was standing in front of Aleksei again, close enough to touch, looking down at him like he was debating his next move.

But I could see it in his eyes. He already knew how this ended.

He wasn’t deciding. He was choosing his words, slow and careful, so every single person in the room would hear him.