Page 139 of Shadow Waltz

Troy reached Ash first, checking him for wounds even as Ash shoved him away. “I’m fine. Move.”

We spun, weapons up, as a fresh team of agents poured from a side tunnel, led by a man in a black flak vest. “Contact front!” he barked, and the world exploded into gunfire. The first two went down as Dmitri’s shots found their marks—one in the mouth, the other in the eye. Troy caught a round in the vest but kept moving, plowing through the chaos like a storm. I advanced, squeezing off shots, aiming for faces and throats, anything that would drop them fast.

A bullet grazed my shoulder; pain flared, hot and sharp, but I pushed through. Ash fought beside us, moving with a brutality that was new and yet somehow inevitable. He shot an agent through the wrist, then kneed him in the gut and used the man’s own momentum to break his neck.

Bodies littered the ground, blood pooling in the broken grout. The last agent tried to run, but Dmitri tackled him, knife working fast and silent. We regrouped, breath coming hard, all eyes on Ash.

His chest heaved, blood on his hands, a haunted wildness in his eyes. “You came,” he said, voice raw.

“Always,” I replied, squeezing his shoulder. “But we’re not done yet. Reddick’s still out there.”

As if summoned by the name, a voice echoed down the corridor. “Enough.”

We turned. Reddick emerged from the shadows, gun raised, posture tense but calm—like he’d been waiting for this his entire life. His eyes flicked to Ash, then me, then the bodies on the ground.

Troy and Dmitri fanned out, forming a loose perimeter. I kept my pistol trained on Reddick’s center mass. Ash just stared, breath ragged, fingers twitching around his stolen weapon.

Reddick kept his distance, gaze cold but not empty. “You’re making this worse for everyone, Markovic. You know how this ends.”

I shook my head, blood pounding in my ears. “Not for us.”

He glanced at the carnage, lips tightening. “You killed good men tonight. Federal agents.”

“They tried to killmyman,” I said. “They lost.”

A muscle ticked in Reddick’s jaw. “Ash, you don’t have to do this. We can still protect you. You don’t need to run with him.”

Ash snorted, the sound brittle. “You want to protect me, Detective? You’d better be ready to bleed for it.”

The moment fractured. Reddick’s finger tightened on the trigger. Troy tensed, ready to charge. Dmitri moved like a shadow.

I shifted, aiming for Reddick’s heart. “This is your last chance, Detective. Walk away.”

He shook his head, sadness flickering across his face. “I can’t.”

The gunfight was inevitable.

Reddick fired first, the bullet snapping past my cheek. I shot back, hitting him in the shoulder, spinning him sideways. He dove for cover, rolling behind a broken pillar as the tunnel erupted in chaos.

Troy charged forward, spraying rounds, bullets shattering tile and concrete. Dmitri flanked right, silent and lethal, his knife glinting. Ash moved with me, staying low, pistol up. Reddickpopped out, firing two quick shots—one clipped Dmitri’s arm, the other smashed into Troy’s vest, staggering him but not stopping him.

I sprinted left, circling the platform, heart hammering. Reddick was bleeding but steady, eyes never leaving Ash. He fired again, the round chipping stone inches from Ash’s foot.

Dmitri slipped around behind, ready to end it. Reddick sensed him, spun, and fired—catching Dmitri in the thigh. Blood sprayed, but Dmitri didn’t drop. He lunged, knife flashing, forcing Reddick back toward me.

I took the opening, tackling Reddick from behind. We hit the ground hard, my pistol clattering away. Reddick was strong—stronger than I expected. He slammed his elbow into my ribs, trying to roll me off, but I held on, grappling for leverage.

Ash shouted, “Luka!”

I saw Reddick’s hand going for his sidearm. I drove my knee into his gut, knocking the wind from him. He twisted, eyes wild, and landed a punch across my jaw. Stars burst behind my eyes, but I didn’t let go.

Troy barreled in, pinning Reddick’s legs. Dmitri crawled closer, face twisted with pain and fury.

Reddick wheezed, struggling. “You’ll never get out. The world will hunt you both.”

Ash crouched over us, blood running down his arm. “Then let them.”

I forced Reddick’s wrist to the floor, twisting until the gun dropped. He spat blood, looking between us with something like respect—and, beneath it, a bitter sadness.