Page 69 of Forbidden Empire

I slammed in a fresh mag, the sound loud in the sudden quiet. Every second counted. Esme was in this house, in Rhea’s hands. I refused to let myself picture what that meant.

“Let’s go,” I said, already running.

She was all I could focus on. The thought of Esme burned so hot, I nearly saw her every time I blinked. We hit the landing,boots pounding, and there was another group of men storming down the hall straight at us. I dropped them.

No hesitation, no wasted shots. Each body that hit the floor was a little victory, every spill of blood a step closer to her. Esme.

We tore through the top floor, ripping open doors, one after another, nothing but empty rooms staring back at us. Ares glanced at me, tension buzzing. We were both thinking it now.

What if it was a setup?

What if the intel was shit?

Walking into an ambush was a real possibility.

But we kept moving. No way in hell we’d stop now, not with this much at stake, not with her name echoing in my skull. I wouldn’t let myself think about coming up empty—not when I’d been obsessed with finding Esme. Failure wasn’t possible. Not for me.

Not ever.

The hallway opened up into a sunken living room the size of a small nightclub, all white marble and glass.

My boots stuttered to a stop.

Rhea lounged against a white leather sofa, champagne flute dangling from two perfect fingers, bubbles catching the light like tiny gold bullets. Her red lips curved upward as she took a deliberate sip, eyes fixed on me, unblinking.

Six men in black suits formed a wall around her, hands resting on visible holsters, faces carved from stone. The only sound was her soft chuckle echoing off marble.

The tallest one—a shaved head, neck wider than my thigh—cracked his knuckles on purpose, slow and loud.

Behind me, boots scuffed to a stop. The weight of a dozen stares pressed against my back, waiting.

I felt Ares tense up at my shoulder. The air between both sides felt like it could snap.

“Well, well, well. You do love a dramatic entrance, don’t you, Aidon?”

Rhea’s voice cut through the room, thin as wire.

My finger twitched on the trigger. Every muscle wanted to see her pretty smile splattered across the wall. She raised her champagne in my direction, the gold liquid catching the light, glass shaking just enough to betray her nerves.

Blood rushed in my ears. All I could see was Esme, somewhere in this fortress. Maybe bleeding and maybe screaming. Maybe already dead.

I counted the men flanking Rhea, their holsters, the way they stood, the time it would take to drop each one.

Six men. Six bullets. Nothing complicated.

Rhea was still talking, smooth and full of herself, but I stopped listening. It was just noise. The only thing that mattered was the pulse in my throat, steady and counting down.

I shifted, weight on my toes. Ares caught it, tensing up next to me. We both recognized this. The hush before everything blew apart.

Not blinking or breathing, I let the silence speak as my finger curled tighter on the trigger.

"How's this for dramatic, bitch?" I squeezed the trigger, and the world exploded.

Glass shattered. Marble chipped. The air went thick with gunfire, every shot pounding in my ears. My men opened up beside me, and the sound became one constant, punishing roar.

I dove behind an overturned table. Bullets chewed through the wood, sending splinters across my face and hands. Across the room, Ares pressed himself flat behind a column.

Our eyes met for a split second.