The power is back on, which means you guys get a new chapter! We made it through Milton just fine. Only lost power for one day (major shout out to the linemen doing repairs around the clock!) and a few shingles fell from the roof. The trees in the nature preserve behind our house took a bit of a beating, but they'll recover over time.

Now, on to the Cullen-Masoni conflict with the Russians...

EPOV

My eyelids weigh a hundred pounds. It's nearly impossible to keep them open. Yet new battle strategies bombard me as I second-guess every decision I made over the past twelve hours.

We're walking into a war.

Vladimir has assembled an army we weren't prepared to take on.

We have the manpower, yes. Associates willing to fight for our cause fill the Masoni organization, men we have trained for this purpose. But the reality of asking them to spill blood for us is unsettling.

Irritated by the restricted feel of my suit jacket, I pull it off and unceremoniously drop it on the chaise in the corner. The blackout curtains remain drawn, so I do not pause as I strip my clothes off and fall into bed. I set my alarm and allow myself to sink into the comfort of my mattress, grateful for a few hours of rest.

Except I never slip away into the unconsciousness I crave. I lay half awake, my mind running between topics, some pertaining to tonight's conflict while others spawn from my subconscious.

When my alarm sounds, I'm groggy and disoriented, not fresh and rejuvenated as I had hoped. With a groan, I climb from the warm cocoon of the duvet and run a hand through my hair. I stare into oblivion for a few minutes until I find the willpower to stand and go to the shower. I keep the water on cold. It helps wake me a bit.

I redress in Armani— a black suit with a silver tie. Then I add my accessories— a flip knife at my right ankle and a handgun on my left. I finish by retrieving my favorite firearm from the top of my nightstand and slipping it into the back of my pants.

With a final look in the mirror and a moment to tame my hair, I leave self-doubt behind.

oOo

"I have ten cameras placed around the building," Jasper explains, dotting my copy of the Pharo's Temple blueprints with red ink. "I covered as many angles as I could, but if you leave the casino, I won't be able to see you."

"If we leave the casino, we have bigger problems," Emmett mutters, palms flat on the table as he leans in to study the drawing.

I survey the men gathered around, waiting for their orders. Felix and Stephan stand next to Emmett, studying the layout of Pharo's Temple, looking for any cover they might be able to use. Ben, who recently volunteered to join us on entry, fills magazines with ammo while he listens intently. My father's voice hums from the phone perched in Jasper's hand.

"If you lose sight of us, we'll verbally communicate our location," I say.

Jasper nods and slides a black cardboard box to the middle of the table. "And that's why it's imperative that you keep your earpieces in at all times." As Jasper opens the box and begins to hand out the small pieces of technology, he glares at Emmett.

"They're uncomfortable," my brother complains.

Accepting the earpiece, I remind Emmett that getting shot is worse.

"Carlisle, I'll send yours with Edward," Jasper says. "Otherwise, I'm ready on my side."

Everyone turns to me as I check my watch. "It's only nine. We have two hours before we meet Vladimir."

"The rest of our associates assemble in an hour in Edward's garage." Jasper reiterates. We chose the location because of its proximity to Pharo's Temple, but the area is secluded enough not to tip off the Bratva if they're watching.

"So, we wait?" Stefan asks, scanning the blueprints one last time.

Nodding, Jasper closes the box and hands it to me to deliver to my father. "Go through the next hour and a half as if it's a normal night. I can guarantee there are eyes on us. We don't want Vladimir getting spooked and coming at us with everything he has."

Over the phone, my father clears his throat. "We have to attempt a diplomatic solution. While we have many organizations on our side, there are still enough allied with the Petrovs that we could end up in trouble if we don't have proof that we planned a business meeting, not an ambush."

"Which is why I'll be recording everything," Jasper says. "Follow Edward's lead. Don't make a move until he tells you."

Heads nod, while a chorus of "understood' and "got it" affirm the plan.

Adrenaline boils in my veins, filling me with a nervous energy that I work hard to suppress. "Meet me in my garage at ten thirty. Until then, watch the property and communicate with me if you find anything suspicious."

We break. Ben and Emmett gather the loaded magazines and carry them out in a box toward the staging area in the garage. We have twenty men scheduled to assemble in an hour and need each to be well-armed.

Jasper continues reviewing the blueprints with Stefan, explaining his thought process on cover and weapon storage. At the same time, Felix grabs a knife from the armory wall and slips it into his pocket before leaving.

"Hey, Felix." I jog to catch up to him as he walks down the hall, but he stops and turns when he hears his name. "I assume Bella made it to the theater."

"Yes, sir. I put four men on her, two in the audience and two backstage. I gave them instructions to monitor every move she makes. After the show, she's to go directly back to the penthouse."

"She has a late show tonight," I say offhanded, remembering that on Friday and Saturday, there are two performances, the second not finishing until shortly before midnight.

Felix grins and stifles a chuckle. "They won't leave her unprotected. I gave the orders to guard her with their lives."

I nod, momentarily placated. Bella will be safe at La Bellissima. I'll keep the conflict far away from her.

Jasper and Stefan emerge from the armory, spurring me to move toward the elevator bank. Anticipation sparks in the air as we ride the few floors up to the security offices. If we're lucky, we won't have to fight, and our weapons will remain tucked against our sides. If we're really lucky, we will get the chance to annihilate our enemy.

I spend the next hour with Emmett scouring security footage, looking for anything unusual. My father does the same thing at his hotels. We check in with each other every fifteen minutes, but by ten-fifteen, nothing untoward has happened.

I'm heading over.

My father texts, signaling it's time to move to the staging area. I leave my security team in charge, the "manager," a Masoni captain who has been in the family since my grandfather's days. He's on loan from my father for the night. We exchange nods as I pass by, indicating he understands the importance of his job.

My garage has transformed into a war room, with bulletproof vests and weapons displayed on folding tables. Jasper and Emmett debrief soldiers who are elated to be chosen for the mission. We hand-selected our best and most loyal men for the job. Their performance tonight will play heavily into future promotions.

I strip out of my jacket, tie, and shirt, slipping a vest over my undershirt. It's snug, not particularly comfortable, but reassuring. Sure, a headshot will take me out in a second, but most people aim for center mass.

Once redressed, I check the weapons on my person and stuff my jacket pockets with extra magazines. The bulk is likely noticeable, but Vladimir would be stupid if he thought I'd show up without proper defense. And despite his flaws, I can't categorize him as stupid.

"You ready?" Emmett asks, finished with his final debrief.

A slow, calculated smirk curls the side of my mouth. "Let's go."

"First wave, move out," Emmett calls, his booming voice echoing off the concrete walls. My immediate group, including Emmett, Stefan, Felix, Ben, and my father, gathers around two SUVs. I dismissed my usual drivers for the night and put soldiers in their place.

We climb into the cars and drive up the ramp toward the exit gate. I'm giddy with excitement— craving the opportunity to annihilate my enemy. Emmett sits in the back seat next to me, his leg bouncing as he checks his gun a final time.

We pull in front of Pharo's Temple around ten-forty-five, fifteen minutes before our meeting starts. We'll have to wait, but there is no way in hell I will allow the Bratva time to assess the property when they arrive. They'll be going in blind, a disadvantage they accepted.

I'm not surprised when their sleek sedans arrive three minutes later. The assholes thought they could beat us here.

Car doors slam as we take our positions inside the hotel's entrance. I stand in the center, flanked by Stefan and Felix. At their sides, Ben and my father wait beside pillars they can use as cover. Emmett stands a few feet behind me, watching over my shoulder and acting as an enforcer.

In my ear, Jasper's voice rings clear. "He's got six men with him. You're outnumbered by one."

"I can take two," Emmett whispers— cocky bastard. I still appreciate his promise to enter the fight at a disadvantage.

Dust kicks up from the short flight of stairs as Vladimir and his crew appear through the open entrance. His ice-cold glare fixates on me as his eyes adjust to the dark room. Another disadvantage for him— while we know our way through the unlit maze of the casino, he can barely see the obstacles in his path.

"Cullen," he sneers, stopping a few yards in front of me, flanked by his men.

"I've come here to strike an agreement," I say. It's bullshit. We both know it, but the words are essential for the recording Jasper is collecting.

Vladimir laughs, glancing at the man to his left, his next in line, I assume. "Oh, and what kind of agreement do you think we can make?"

"Vegas is my family's territory. You back off, and we will leave you alone. I don't give a fuck what you do everywhere else, just leave Vegas out of it."

His face twists in disgust. "No deal."

"You're not welcome here," I growl, hand twitching in preparation to pull my weapon. "You came into my city without warning, without discussing terms with us— the overseeing organization."

"Did I?" Vladimir cocks his head to the side as if trying to remember, mocking me. "My apologies."

"It's time for you to leave."

I sense Emmett move behind me and hold my hand to stop him. We're not going to be the first to draw.

"Here's a proposition for you," Vladimir says, stepping closer, his men shifting in response. "I kill you all and do whatever the fuck I like."

I laugh, my head tilting back in amusement. He's a funny one, this motherfucker. I level him with a glare so sinister the man to his left shuffles away.

"Try it."

That's the end of our meeting.

Bellowing a wild "Now!" Vladimir ducks behind his men as they draw their weapons.

Chaos erupts as my men respond; my father and Ben take cover behind their pillars. Emmett fires the first shot, stepping to my side and hitting one of Vladimir's men in the neck. Blood flows from the wound as a gurgled howl breaks from him.

With weapon in hand, I sprint into the dark, ducking behind a strategically placed poker table Jasper turned on its side. I can't see Vladimir, nor can I understand the orders he calls out in Russian as everyone runs, searching for cover. My team makes it safely into the casino while most of Vlaimir's hide outside, using the exterior walls to block our view.

When the man I've deduced is next in line peeks around the corner, I aim and fire, missing him by inches as my bullet ricochets against the cinderblock wall.

"Fuck!" I shout, shifting to the side and lining up my sights. A bullet whizzes past me, right where my head was moments before. The miss confirms that the enemy can't see us; they aimed for the last place they saw a flash of gunfire.

Another man steps halfway around the corner, coming into view. From my left, protected by another overturned table, Felix shoots, hitting the man in the abdomen. The Russian swears but retreats behind the wall. They prepared with bulletproof armor as well.

"Shit," Jasper curses through our earpieces. "They've got reinforcements. Ten more pulled up and are storming the building."

"Call our backup!" I seethe, wondering why they're not already here.

"They're on the way," Jasper says. "ETA a minute thirty."

Fuck. Anything could happen in a minute thirty.

"Edward, Carlisle, fall back," Felix yells before targeting the same man he just shot. He aims higher this time and hits the man in the forehead. He's instantly dead, his body collecting on the ground at an unnatural angle.

I spot some motion in my periphery as my father runs along the side of the wall. He crouches behind the overturned tables, invisible to our enemy.

Emmett appears beside me, pushing me away. I take his cue and step backward, my gun aimed at the Russians, hoping they don't spot me in the darkness.

A shot rings out from my right, and I grin as Ben hits his target, taking down a Bratva soldier who made the mistake of running through the front doors. The moron must be high to pull that sort of kamikaze shit.

"Edward," my father hisses. "This way."

I rush after him, turning a corner and finding myself in the reception lobby as we pass by one of Jasper's overhead cameras.

"There are automatic rifles stashed behind the check-in desks," Jasper says in my ear.

The podiums hide in the shadows at equal distances apart so that only their outlines are visible. Quickly moving through the room, I confirm with Jasper that's where we're headed.

My father and I drop behind the desks within seconds. I find a loaded rifle on the floor surrounded by extra ammo. Two desks over, my father finds the same. With my back pressed against the wooden podium, I wait, listening to the gunshots echoing from the casino.

"How are we doing?" I ask.

Jasper's response is instant. "Our guys just made it to the entrance. They're in a firefight with the Bratva soldiers outside. They've taken down three of the six. Wait, four of the six."

"How many are inside?"

"Alive? We've got eight left. But, Edward…"

"Yeah?"

"I've lost sight of Vladimir, and a couple of cars just pulled up behind the building."

"Shit," I hear Emmett respond to the latest news. "Ed, do you need us back there?" A gun fires, spurring a "Got him!"

"Down to seven out front," Jasper says.

"If one of you can get here safely, we probably need backup," I say.

"I'll come." It's Ben who volunteers, and my brows raise. The guy impresses me more every day.

"Stay low, Ben," Jasper warns. "There's a semi-auto tucked beneath the bar behind you. I recommend grabbing that before moving toward the lobby. Edward, you've got five men headed in from the back entrance."

I take my time lifting to my knees and peering over the desk. Footsteps to my left alert me to the Bratva rushing in. I position my gun as my father does the same, and we wait for them to appear.

The men call to each other in Russian, their steps slow as they approach the lobby. They must know we're here.

"Come on," I hiss, impatient, cocking my gun.

"Ben, wait!" Jasper's panicked voice crackles in my ear. "Behind you."

A shot rings out, closer than the rest, and I hear a cry as Jasper yells, "Fuck!"

"Get behind the bar!" Jasper's directions have my eyes darting toward the casino, although, with the obstructed view, I can't see anything. My chest tightens as worst-case scenarios cross my mind.

"They hit Ben, but I've got him covered," Felix says, breathing heavily and asking Ben to see the wound. "It's his leg. I think he'll be okay, but he's out of the fight."

"There's an office behind the bar. Get him in there and close the door," I command, then whip the nozzle of my gun to the left because the fuckers waiting behind the far wall are making their move.

When the first silhouette of a man appears, I open fire. He goes down, riddled with bullets. But I'm not prepared for what happens next. Something flies through the air and lands on the floor with a metallic clink.

"Fuck," my father curses and scrambles away, running behind the desks and momentarily opening himself to waiting shooters. I don't have time; I hunker down, squeeze my eyes shut, and hold my hands over my ears.

The stun grenade goes off with a bang. Despite my attempts to protect myself, my ears ring, and the room spins. Vladimir's men enter. The bullets from their automatic rifles splinter the wooden desks that my father and I use for cover.

"I'm at a bad angle. Not sure if I can aim." My father says. The microphone in his earpiece picks up the gunshots louder than his voice. With a steadying breath and a prayer to any deity listening, I roll to my stomach, prop my gun against the floor, and open fire. I'm giving away my position, but I don't have a choice.

I hit the man closest to me. Multiple bullets embed into his legs; it's likely he'll bleed out. But now I'm vulnerable, open to attack. The other men turn to me as I throw myself behind the desk. It's a poor cover; the top half can't sustain more damage. My heart pounds against my ribs as I crouch low.

Two shots fly past on either side of the desk before a series of deafening pops have me snapping my head toward my father. With his gun perched on his podium, he fires at the men, annihilating a first, then a second. The final of the Russians dives behind a concierge desk on the other side of the lobby.

An eerie silence catches me off guard.

Not a single bullet is fired. Not from the lobby, not from the casino.

"What's going on?" I whisper.

"The few remaining Bratva retreated," Jasper says. "They're regrouping on the side of the building."

"How many are left?"

"Including the guy you're in a standoff with, there's five. But…"

I clench my teeth, bracing myself for bad news. "But, what?"

"Vladimir is MIA."

"How many have we lost?" My father asks.

"Ben's down, along with a soldier on the front steps. It sounds like they'll be okay. We have three that aren't returning to La Bellissima." Jasper's answer has my eyes shutting in frustration. Fuck the Bratva for murdering my men.

"We've got to find Vladimir." Seething, I shift to check on the guy across the room. He's still hiding.

An engine roars to life in the distance, and I turn toward my father. I can't see his expression, but the way he peers around his reception desk tells me he's thinking the same thing I am.

"Jasper?" I ask.

"The Russians just left."

"What the fuck?" Emmett mutters. "I'm going after them."

"No, you're not," I order, checking on the concierge desk. "Jasper, are you sure that was all of them?"

"Ninety-nine percent. Well, minus the guy with you."

"I got him," Emmett promises before I hear his footsteps rushing toward the lobby.

I sigh and shake my head as Emmett's shadowed figure appears. He waves his hand across the room as if to ask, "Where?" I point to the concierge desk. He creeps forward, gun aimed and ready.

When he reaches the desk, he points the barrel downward against the top and fires. A tortured wail echoes through the room before Emmett does it again, then a third time. The cries cease, and Emmett peers around the desk. "Got him," he says, clearly pleased with himself.

My father and I emerge from our hiding spots and scan the carnage.

I take the lead, walking my team through our next steps. "Jasper, call the clean-up crew. We can't have bodies lying around when construction shows up in the morning. Felix, Stefan, get Ben back to La Bellissima."

"Dr. Jenks is on standby in a suite," Jasper says. "I'll take them up when they get here."

"So, what now?" Emmett asks, kicking at one of the lifeless bodies on the floor.

"Now." I glare at the expired Bratva scum. "We hunt down Vladimir and send him to hell."

A/N: So where's Vladimir? And what's going on with Bella? All I'm going to say is don't underestimate her.

Next chapter will be out soon!