SMOKE AND CROSSFIRE

The sky darkened early, thunderclouds gathering above the desolate factory. Tension charged the air like electricity waiting to strike.

Inside, Ayla clung to the girl's hand, heart pounding. Her legs were weak, but fear kept her moving.

"Elara was my mother's best friend," the girl whispered as they moved through the dim corridor. "She saved her once. Now it's my turn."

Ayla wanted to ask more, but the factory shuddered with a sudden explosion. Smoke burst through the far hallway. The rescue window was closing.

Outside, Leon's SUV skidded to a stop as gunfire erupted.

"They were waiting for us!" Nico shouted.

Leon's jaw clenched. "Viper's men?"

But then another car screeched in from the opposite side—Viper himself, storming out with his guards.

Both men froze as they locked eyes.

"You followed the same trail," Nico muttered. "She's inside."

"No time for your pride," Viper growled. "Get her out first, then we settle scores."

⸻

Inside, Ayla and her savior ducked behind a metal pillar. The escape route was blocked—guards poured in from both directions.

"You said five minutes," Ayla whispered.

"I lied," the girl smiled. "I'm not leaving. But you are."

Before Ayla could respond, the girl shoved a keycard into her hand and pointed toward a hidden side gate.

"Run. Don't stop."

Ayla hesitated for a beat—but ran.

⸻

Leon burst through the east wing, clearing rooms with calculated fury.

Then he saw her.

Running.

"Ayla!"

She turned at the sound of his voice, tears springing to her eyes.

But before they could reach each other, a bullet cracked through the air. Ayla hit the ground.

Leon fired blindly, shielding her with his body. "Don't you dare close your eyes!"

From the other entrance, Viper stormed in, shooting with ruthless precision.

They didn't speak. They only fought—for her.

⸻

The chaos lasted minutes that felt like years. When it finally ended, smoke hung in the air and blood stained the concrete.

Ayla lay between them, bruised and shaken, but alive.

Leon was on his knees beside her, whispering her name.

Viper stood just behind, silent. Watching.

It was then that Ayla saw the truth—not just in their eyes, but in the pain on their faces.

She had been someone's daughter, someone's love, and someone's war.

And all of it—every second—was far from over.