“You should’ve stayed the fuck away from her.And out of my territory.”
He head-butted me.White fire exploded behind my eyes.Before he could strike again, I hooked his arm and drove my knee into his stomach.He folded with a wet, choking sound.
I brought my elbow down onto the back of his neck.
He hit the floor.
Marcello moved in at my side.Alessio stayed planted at the hall, firing short, brutal bursts to keep anyone from reaching us.
“Kill him,” Marcello snapped.“End it.”
“Gladly.”
Viktor reached for the knife, blind and desperate.
Neve moved before I could.
She kicked the knife across the room—hard.It skidded to a stop at my feet.
Her eyes met mine.Bruised.Bloodshot.Burning with terror and something feral beneath it.
I picked up the knife.
Viktor spat.“You have no idea what war you’ve started, Don Cavalho.”
“I didn’t start it.”I stepped closer.“But I’ll damn well end it.”
He laughed, breath hitching.“All this over a woman?”
For the first time all night, the truth hit clean and absolute.
“She’s untouchable.”
I lifted the knife?—
Gunfire erupted down the hall.
“ATLAS—MOVE!”Gianni yelled.
“Now!”Marcello added.“The ceiling’s coming down!”
I tightened my grip and shoved Viktor against the wall one last time, just to keep him stunned.
“Run,” I told Neve without looking at her.“Go with Marcello.”
She hesitated—chest heaving, eyes locked on me like I was both the devil and the thing standing between her and hell—but she moved.Marcello guided her out, steady hand at her back.Gianni covered the rear.Alessio laid down fire to keep the corridor clear.
Above us, the blaze roared like a starving animal, devouring beam after beam.Heat poured down in waves.The ceiling groaned, sagging, ready to collapse.
Viktor spat a thick rope of blood at my boots.
“You can’t protect her from me,” he wheezed.
I looked down at him.At what was left of him.At the filth that had dared to lay hands on her.
My rage cooled into something clean and final.
“You won’t be touching anything.Not where you’re going.”