CHAPTER 17: NO MORE MERCY

 The initial shot was inches from her.

She didn't flinch.

Didn't stop.

She fired again, the bullet smashing into the chest of one of Antonov's men, her rifle kicking against her shoulder. He collapsed before he could shoot.

Nathaniel moved to her side, dropping another with two fast shots.

Damien?

She didn't need to look.

She felt him — watched as the bodies fell out of her periphery, all testament to his deadly precision.

But the enemy kept coming.

Isla ducked behind a steel crate as bullets slammed into the wall behind her. Her breath came in ragged bursts, adrenaline blazing in her veins.

Gabriel's voice exploded into the earpiece. 

"They're leaving no one with any way out. We need an opening—now."

Damien's response was cool, ruthless. "Then we make one."

He threw something across the crates — a grenade.

A second later, the blast shook the hall.

The screams that came were lost among the ringing in her ears.

"Move!" Damien shouted.

Isla pushed forward, stepping over bodies, the gun still raised.

They weren't just escaping.

They were slicing through Antonov's forces like a knife through flesh.

No more running.

No more mercy.

***

 Further along was the secondary control room.

They just had to reach it.

Damien shot the last guard standing near the steel door, tumbling him. 

"Gabriel—on it."

Gabriel sprinted forward, slash-bashing the panel. 

"Give me thirty seconds."

They didn't have half a minute.

The sound of more footsteps reverberated down the corridor.

Nathaniel turned. "They're regrouping."

Damien didn't hesitate. He pushed his way forward, positioning himself between Isla and the approaching gunmen.

She grabbed his arm. "Damien—"

He met her eyes. "Stay behind me."

Then he fired.

The hullabaloo in the hallway resumed, bodies dropping as he and Nathaniel held the fort.

"Done!" Gabriel yelled. The door slid open.

Damien took Isla's hand and pulled her through.

They weren't out yet.

But they were damn close.

Escape or Trap?

Inside, the secondary control room had the feel of a maze of terminals and flashing monitors.

Gabriel scanned the screens. 

"I can bypass the lockdown, but it's just going to buy us five minutes before the backup systems kick in."

"Five minutes is plenty," Damien said.

Nathaniel was locking the room already. "And if it's not?"

Before Damien could reply, Isla answered.

"Then we fight."

Her voice was steady.

Determined.

Damien's chest tightened.

Gabriel crashed the last command. "Doors are opening. Let's move."

Damien could tell something was wrong the moment they entered the corridor.

Too quiet.

Too easy.

Then—

Across the hall, a slow clap began.

And stepping into view, surrounded by six heavily armed men—

Viktor Antonov.

Bleeding. Bruised.

But smiling.

"You didn't think I would let you do this that easily, did you?

The fight wasn't over.

It had just begun.

***

 A slow, mocking clap from Viktor Antonov turned her blood to ice.

His men were a wall of muscle and gun metal in front of me, their weapons trained on Isla, Damien and the rest.

Out-numbered. Out-gunned.

But not out-played.

***

 Isla tightened her grip on her rifle. The air was thick with the acrid metallic taste of blood and gunpowder.

Damien didn't move. Didn't flinch. His gun was still up, his stance deceptively relaxed.

Nathaniel, standing immediately behind them, whistled low. 

"Damn. He just loves to make an entrance."

Gabriel drew a sharp breath, weapon steady. 

"What's the play?"

Isla's pulse pounded. They had seconds to decide.

Antonov's tone was smooth, even amused. 

"I need to admit, I underestimated you." 

He seems to roll his shoulder, wincing slightly at the fresh wound on his side from earlier. 

"Very few people come into my house and live to regret it."

Isla lifted her chin. "Well, you should have killed me when you had the chance."

His smile widened. "Oh, I'm going to remedy that mistake."

Then he snapped his fingers.

Two of his men stepped out with raised rifles—

Damien fired first.

A headshot. The first guard went down within a heartbeat.

Nathaniel shot the second man in the throat before he had a chance to pull the trigger.

Then?

Hell erupted.

Antonov's men opened fire.

Isla ducked for cover, bullets whirring past overhead. Rounds ricocheted off the metal walls, and sparks flew.

Damien yanked her down just as a burst of gunfire gutted the floor space where she'd just stood.

"We're pinned," Gabriel said, ducking as bullets shattered against the control room behind them.

"Not for long," Nathaniel replied, loading his weapon. 

"Cover me."

Damien and Isla shot back, scattering Antonov's men.

It gave Nathaniel just enough time to toss a flash grenade.

The blast of white light dazed the gunmen.

Damien sprang forward, shooting two of them before they could react.

Isla shifted next to him, scoring a flawless double tap to another's chest.

Only two left.

Antonov and his final bodyguard left.

For the first time, Antonov's smirk fell.

He reached for his gun—

Isla fired first.

The bullet skimmed his shoulder, twisting him around.

Damien was upon him in seconds.

Damien hit him hard in the jaw and Antonov fell to the ground with a crash, before he could react.

The last bodyguard hesitated—

Nathaniel didn't.

A single shot to the head.

The fight was over.

Silence.

Just the ragged sound of breathing, the smell of gunpowder heavy in the air.

Antonov coughed and sprayed blood onto the floor.

His eyes flicked to Isla. 

"You think this makes a difference?" His voice was hoarse but still dripping with venom. 

"You believe killing me will keep you safe?"

Isla half-advanced, gun to his head.

"No," she said coldly. 

"But it will still make me feel good."

Her finger tensed on the trigger.

But Damien's hand landed on her wrist.

"Not yet," he murmured.

She turned to him with her jaw clenched. 

"After everything he's done—"

"I know," Damien said softly.

 "But there's something worse than dying."

Isla sucked a shuddery breath out of her lungs.

He was right.

It would be too simple to kill Antonov.

She lowered the gun.

Antonov laughed — until Damien knelt beside him and said, "We're going to take everything from you. Your empire. Your name. Your power." 

His voice dipped lower. "And when there's nothing? Then I'll let Isla decide what to do with you."

Antonov's smirk flickered.

And for the first time, there was fear in his eyes.

Gabriel tilted his head. "So… what are we going to do with him now?"

Isla exhaled slowly.

Then she smiled.

"Let's send him a message."

Antonov was not going to die this night.

But his reign of terror?

That ended now.