Chapter 80

I heard the click before I saw the figure emerge. My hand went to my sidearm, but the cold press of metal against my temple froze me in place.

"Don't move," a voice ordered from behind. It was steady, measured. Familiar.

Axel, leaning against the wall, whipped his head toward me, his grip tightening on his gun. "Drop it," the voice added, louder this time, addressing him.

Mira raised her hands slowly, stepping into the faint light filtering through the broken window. "You've got guts coming here. If you wanted a fight, you should've brought more people."

The man stepped closer, the gun still pressed to my head. His face came into view—sharp, calculating eyes beneath a scar that ran from his temple to his jawline. "I didn't come for a fight," he said. "But I will end one if you make me."

"Who sent you?" I asked, my voice low. "Marcello? Elias?"