"God, what a bunch of losers," Ian grumbled. He was one of the younger non-guardian members of our group. "If I were the one trying to kidnap you, I'd have been here a week ago."
"Says the guy who was late for the car ride this morning," I muttered without looking up from the binoculars. I was watching the road that led to the boys' country house. It was the only way to drive up to our hideout, though I'd also told Lev to keep an eye on the back of the house, just in case we had uninvited guests.
Ian, sitting beside me and watching for kidnappers from the opposite direction, scoffed.
"You say that like you've never been late for anything in your life."
I smirked to myself, thankful he couldn't see it.
"I usually try not to be late when I'm using a princess as bait for extremely dangerous kidnappers."
"It was one time!" he hissed indignantly, but I knew he wasn't actually mad. Ian, like me, was the type who defused tension with humor. I didn't mind his constant chatter, even though I'd heard Derek telling him to shut up earlier.
Earlier that day, we had ordered Kim to flee to Court. If she got there before our operation was over, her job was to report everything to Lissa and Dimitri—I was leaving it to them to decide what to do with the situation. Four of the boys had driven out to a country house that we'd temporarily turned into a military base—set up cameras, prepared a bunker for Jill to hide in, and cleared out any places an enemy could use as cover.
Ian and Derek hid in my car, driving around with me and Jill to all the areas where we knew there was surveillance. I fueled up at three different gas stations, circled through the parking garages of four malls, and stopped at two major train stations. They must've used cameras and footage to find us before, so this was the only way I could help them track us down again. After several hours of aimless driving, Derek directed me to the countryside house.
Unfortunately, that only led to several more hours of pointless waiting. We were ready to confront the kidnappers—but there was still no sign of them. Everyone was on edge, the air so thick with tension it practically crackled. I was afraid that the longer they took to arrive, the more likely we were to relax our guard.
Ian and I were growing impatient, though I at least tried not to show it. This was my mission. I had to keep morale up.
I touched the comm in my ear and activated it.
"Jill, everything okay?" I asked, same as every five minutes.
"All good," she replied, her voice tired. "All good" meant she was really fine. If she'd answered "Everything's okay," that was my cue to come save her. Though honestly, I couldn't imagine how the kidnappers could even reach her.
"Heads up!" David's voice crackled through all our earpieces. He was acting as one of our scouts, watching the area from the roof. "Three cars heading our way."
I exhaled slowly, bracing myself for the encounter. I glanced at Ian and Derek, who were the closest to me and gave them a nod. They both silently prepared for action.
I tensed every muscle in my body, tightening my grip on the pistol until my knuckles turned white. Time seemed to freeze. Every second dragged on endlessly. But I was ready to pay them back—for all the sleepless nights, the moments of sheer terror, and Jill's silent tears. I was ready to show them exactly what I was capable of.
At first, we heard only the crunching of gravel beneath the approaching tires. Soon after, three cars pulled into the yard. I recognized them from our previous close encounters.
"It's them. Get ready," I whispered to the guys. My mouth went dry. The adrenaline sharpened every sense, narrowing my focus entirely to the pistol in my hands and the targets ahead.
Around twelve men climbed out of the vehicles, and as they hurried to form a line, I gave the signal.
"Fire."
The thunder of gunshots shook the ground, but we didn't flinch. Nothing mattered more than hitting our marks. Some of the kidnappers pulled out weapons and returned fire, but we were well hidden and camouflaged. We took out the biggest threats first, and they were the ones to go down fast.
We had agreed to shoot to disable, not to kill—unless it was in self-defense. Above all, I wanted to avoid any scenario where the boys might get hurt… or worse.
I knew how to shoot, and I didn't hesitate. Within seconds, I had one of them in my sight and hit him in the knee. He dropped the pistol aimed in our direction and screamed in pain. I turned my weapon to another one and shot him in the arm—the same one holding his gun. He let go, clutching the wound with his good hand. Both of them dropped to their knees, shielding their heads and holding their injuries close to their bodies.
I counted about five who hit the ground and didn't move. I wasn't sure if they were dead. Three others were either curled up or kneeling. Two remained standing, ducking behind a car and preparing to retaliate.
David shouted out orders – he knew his people and knew how to deploy them. He and I were to cover our boys, who had begun rounding up the injured kidnappers and taking their guns from their hands. Conor, one of our guys, had been wounded, so another had to take him inside to tend to his injuries. Every time rifles popped up from behind the cars, David and I would lay down fire on that spot so the boys could do their job in peace.
One of the "corpses" suddenly grabbed a weapon and aimed at Ian, who was approaching him. Luckily, Ian reacted quickly and dropped to the ground, while David, from above, shot the attacker in the arm, causing him to drop the bloodied pistol. I held my fire, afraid of hitting Ian from my angle. Ian knocked the weapon out of the attacker's reach and began dragging him over to the rest of the captured kidnappers.
Three of the boys kept watch over the captured attackers. Meanwhile, four of us began slowly approaching the vehicles. We moved crouched down so they couldn't spot us too quickly, and David provided cover from above. Lev went ahead of me, and he was the first to jump out at the armed attackers.
Suddenly, I heard a gunshot so close it rattled my bones, and Lev dropped to the ground with a dull groan. The rest of my team began firing toward where the attackers were, while I leaned over Lev and dragged him out of the line of fire. My legs went weak with fear that he might've been killed, and though he was clearly writhing in pain, I couldn't control my panic.
"Lev!" My voice trembled. I knelt beside him and started checking vital areas like his neck, chest, and thighs, trying to locate the wound but couldn't find anything—especially with panic rising. I'd never forgive myself if he died because of me.
"They hit the vest, I'm fine, Hathaway," he gasped, eyes shut tight from the pain. I breathed a sigh of relief and laid him down safely. Assessing that his condition was stable, I nodded and rejoined the team, now in full shootout mode. One attacker was already curled up in pain, and I hit another who was aiming at Derek from the other side. I shot him squarely in the arm holding the pistol, and he cried out and clutched his injury, still refusing to drop the weapon.
I approached him and pressed my gun to his head.
"Drop the weapon," I said in a tone that allowed no argument. I was shaking all over, waiting for his next move, unsure whether I was even capable of shooting a man in the back of the head, even now. All my psychological prep as a guardian had focused on fighting soulless monsters—ethically simpler enemies. No one had prepared us for killing like this.
Luckily, I didn't have to make that decision. The attacker dropped his gun and raised his good hand. I grabbed it—and his wounded one too—and Derek was already securing the other attacker. David ran down from the roof and took my prisoner from me—I could've handled him, but I couldn't deny David was bigger and better suited to physically restrain someone. I walked back to Lev and helped him stand up. He gratefully accepted my help.
"Fuck, I didn't know getting shot in a vest hurt that much," he groaned as I lifted him onto his shaky feet.
"Sorry," I said, wincing at the sight of the hole in his vest. Lev waved it off like he was saying, "No worries, I usually offer this kind of service to old friends—especially crazy eighteen-year-olds I used to hunt with in Russia."
I touched my communication device.
"Jill, everything okay?"
"Oh, Rose," I heard her sigh of relief and tears in her voice. "Yeah, yeah, all good. Is it over? Is everyone okay?"
"It's over, don't worry. Nobody died."
Inside the house, we restrained the conscious kidnappers and stripped them of any means of communication with their HQ. I helped tend to the wounds of the attackers we'd injured. First aid was one of the skills required of us, and I was better at stopping bleeding than the boys who'd completed their formal training years ago. Conor had already been treated, so we could now focus on our temporary captives.
Three of them were already dead by the time we brought them into the house, and two more bled out despite our desperate attempts to stop it. We managed to save and bandage the remaining seven. They'd need medical care, but that would have to wait.
I went to check on Jill in the makeshift shelter in the basement. She hugged me, and I saw fresh tears on her cheeks. I didn't envy her having to sit hidden in that space—I'd gone crazy waiting for the outcome and being unable to help.
Unfortunately, I had to leave her there a while longer and headed upstairs for the interrogation. We left the kidnappers on the living room floor under close watch by everyone. Even Lev was on his feet, glaring at one of the pale, exhausted attackers. Only Conor was sitting in an armchair, breathing shallowly, his forehead drenched in sweat. I gave him an encouraging look and turned my attention to the captives.
I looked over the men hunched on the floor.
"Which one of you is the leader?"
One of them let out a loud sigh as the others turned to look at him. He was the last attacker who had put up resistance. He looked at me with a defeated expression. Perfect—that would make things easier.
"It's me."
I walked up to him and pointed the gun at his head. A few people audibly drew breath, but I didn't turn around to see who it was. I kept my eyes locked on the commander's—there was a glint of fear there, though he was doing everything he could to keep a neutral mask on his face.
"You know exactly who I am. You've been tracking me for days. You know I haven't slept. You know I'm tired. And you must realize I don't have an ounce of patience left in me. I'm going to ask you a few questions, and I expect honest answers. I already know the truth about some of them. If you lie, you get a bullet to the head, and your next buddy starts answering. That's your motivation to tell the truth. Is that clear?"
We were so close I could see him start to shake. The adrenaline was slowly leaving his body. The fear in his eyes was growing, though he was clenching every muscle in an effort not to show it. His skin stretched taut over his bones as if it were about to split.
"Clear," he said in a tight voice. I took a deep breath. Once again, I wasn't sure what I would've done if he had refused to cooperate. I wasn't a murderer. I didn't want to take his life.
In training, they always told us never to make threats we weren't prepared to carry out. But I had no better idea at the time. I could only be grateful he didn't call my bluff.
"What's your name?" I didn't lower the gun from his forehead. A little stress might help remind him not to lie.
"Malvin Sternakov."
"Who sent you after me?"
"Mr. Drozdov."
All the captors we'd caught were human. Apparently, the prince had run out of dhampirs. Regular humans couldn't possibly know the weight behind Drozdov's princely title. I felt a sharp throb of a headache at the thought of the clean-up job the Alchemists would have after all this chaos.
"How long have you been working for him?"
"About six months. Drozdov started recruiting a lot of people back then and clued us in on his plan."
"What plan?"
"To kidnap the girl. I don't know what the first phase was about, back in August. I was involved in the operation in Palm Springs. We handed her off to Meyer and then moved on to support Drozdov. When you escaped, one unit was sent to track you down."
"What happened to them?"
"No one came back, but they managed to let us know the girl got away. Almost all forces were then redirected to find her. To find you. That was us," he said, glancing around at his dejected squad. They all looked pale and defeated. I had a feeling that if they'd known how this would end, they never would have signed up for the mission.
"Almost?"
"The rest stayed with the prince."
"How many?"
"Four or five guys. I don't remember exactly."
"Where is the prince hiding?"
Malvin gave the address that Kim had found. One of our guys let out a whistle of joy. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw them exchange excited glances.
A thrill ran through me. Got you, I thought. My fingers were itching to slap handcuffs on Prince Drozdov.
Malvin gave us a rough layout of the people and rooms. He explained how to enter the estate using the QR codes on ID tags and which side to approach from to avoid suspicion. He could've been lying, of course, but I didn't think so. First, my threat probably worked. Second, he seemed worn out and beaten. He didn't strike me as someone loyal enough to the prince to die for him. That's the thing with hiring mercenaries.
I pulled Jill from the basement and stood with her while the guys transferred the captives to our hideout. I told her what we'd learned, and I could see that she was just as excited. We grabbed each other's hands, unable to properly express the relief we felt at the thought that this nightmare might soon be over.
We all gathered in the empty living room, and I thanked the guys for their help and for how well the operation went—especially Connor, who'd taken a bullet to the leg for it. They were smiling, exchanging satisfied glances and handshakes. The mission had energized them, especially since my interrogation made it clear they were on the right side—protecting a fifteen-year-old girl from a band of hired killers.
Maybe if the casualties had been worse, their enthusiasm wouldn't have survived. But given the success we'd just had, they were ready for the next move. Their steps had a new bounce to them; they were literally hopping with excitement. Three of them took a celebratory vodka shot, but I passed. We wanted to strike while the iron was hot and hit the prince's hideout before the loss of contact with Malvin's group raised suspicion.
We went over the strategy one last time, took the kidnappers' cars, and set off. I suited Jill up with a vest, helmet, and goggles and told her to stay in the car with Lev when we launched the attack. On one hand, I didn't trust anyone in this group as much as him (and even my trust in Lev was pretty limited), but on the other, I didn't want to stay behind with her either—this was my fight.
We had about an hour's drive to the prince's hideout. Lev and Derek were chatting animatedly in the front seats, but I didn't feel like joining their chatter. I couldn't really tune it out either, so I decided to slip into Lissa's head and see what was going on with her. Over the past few days, I'd only been able to do that for a few minutes at a time, so any information I could gather now was precious.
At that moment, Lissa was walking, escorted by a group of her guardians—including Harvey, our royal guard commander—who had taken my usual place at her side. They were heading toward the Guardians' HQ. From her mind, I gathered that Dimitri had called and asked her to meet him there.
He was waiting for her just outside the door. He bowed courteously, and she quickly motioned for him to rise. As always, just seeing him had a calming effect on me. Everything about him reminded me of safety—his broad, strong shoulders, the alert and gentle look in his eyes, and most of all, the confident posture that made him impossible to overlook. Today, he was dressed rather professionally—in a white shirt and neatly pressed black trousers, like he was preparing for a serious meeting.
But I could tell something was off, something unusual. I saw excitement cruising through him - in his sparkling eyes, in his tight shoulders. He had found something. He asked for a moment of privacy with Lissa, and the royal guards stepped away. Very few people were granted such privileges, especially in such dangerous times, but Dimitri was one of them.
"Liss, I think I know who the traitor is—the one who's been passing messages to the prince from Court," he said, excitement getting the better of him, not even realizing he'd used the affectionate nickname I usually did. His eyes sparkled, and I felt a wave of optimism looking into them through Lissa's.
"Who?!" Lissa's excited whisper carried a little too far, so she tried to calm down, though her mind was spinning with the weight of this revelation. Finding the spy meant getting closer to securing the Court—and that meant she could bring Jill and me home without putting us in danger. Nothing felt more important than this right now. "Who?" she whispered.
She grabbed his forearm instinctively, squeezing it in a rush of enthusiasm, and I unexpectedly felt a stab of jealousy that those weren't my fingers. I missed being close to him, especially now—after one battle where I could have died, and with another one looming. I tried to focus on the warmth of his skin, but Lissa didn't even seem to notice.
"Before I say anything, I want to be sure, so I need your help. I've called a meeting with the Guardians to go over everything. If you can, pay close attention to their auras—see if anyone stands out to you. I don't want to influence your judgment too soon…"
"… so I don't get a false read. Got it." Lissa nodded, disappointed at having to wait for the information but understanding Dimitri's approach. She didn't want to risk something this serious just for the sake of hearing the truth a few minutes earlier. "I'll watch them all and let you know if anything seems suspicious."
Dimitri smiled at her with gratitude, and she returned the smile, feeling a small jolt of hope. She liked him, and she liked working with him. Sometimes, she felt like it came naturally because we shared similar natures—he and I. Maybe there was some truth to that.
They entered the conference room, and all the Guardians stood at the sight of her. Though most of our meeting rooms were fairly plain, this one was an exception. We only used it when Lissa was personally involved in the discussions. It had a large oval table, heavy velvet curtains hanging in the windows, and a mirror on the far wall. Most of the Guardians were seated along the sides of the table, with Dimitri standing at one end, ready to present his findings. Near the table was a lone, ornately carved desk, where Criss from our IT department sat with a laptop open, clearly there to assist with presenting evidence.
Lissa sat at the opposite head of the table, her guardians standing and sitting protectively around her. Normally, such caution wouldn't be necessary within Guardian HQ, but since Dimitri had brought a potential traitor into the room… better safe than sorry.
Looking at him through Lissa's eyes, he seemed incredibly confident. He waited calmly for everyone to be seated, observing them closely. He radiated calm and control, his sharp eyes scanning every movement, missing nothing. He looked very professional—white shirt with sleeves rolled up, his hair neatly tied back in a ponytail. He certainly inspired trust.
Still, if I were in his shoes, I'd probably be more nervous—he had just summoned all of the top leaders. Hans, Klara, Reece, Clive, Harvey… and many more. Dimitri had impressive credentials, but everyone in the room outranked him, and he was still considered a young Guardian. If he accused one of them and turned out to be wrong… I didn't even want to think about the consequences.
Lissa focused on observing everyone's aura, but nothing seemed suspicious. Reading auras didn't come as naturally to her as it did to Adrian or Sonya, and she couldn't distinguish the negative emotions swarming in the Guardians' energy. Everyone was anxious given the situation. Most of them radiated worry—but in recent days, that had become the new normal.
Dimitri began by explaining how he had started helping Klara in the search for the spy. How they analyzed all the surveillance footage, tracked the online communication of devices connected to the prince's account, and traced the interactions of many guardians who had contact with families close to the prince's. She nodded, agreeing with his version of events.
"Everything proceeded by the book," he continued, "and as expected, it led us to a few leads that were worth investigating further. But at some point, I began to doubt whether the approach we'd taken was actually the right one."
Klara furrowed her brow, clearly surprised. Lissa noticed that her aura darkened with increasingly negative colors. Hans's face also tensed. If I knew him, he probably thought Dimitri's introduction was too long and just wanted him to get to the point. Lissa saw the flickers in his aura.
"We talked about where we might look for Claudia and Guardian Towley suggested that, since Claudia had depressive disorders, maybe we should check psychiatric hospitals, even those run by humans, correct?" Dimitri looked at Klara for confirmation.
She hesitated, then nodded. Hans was already opening his mouth to say something, but Dimitri didn't give him the chance.
"The thing is—there's no mention of any mental health issues in Claudia's official records."
Silence fell over the room. Everyone turned to look at Klara. She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again. Lissa saw her aura quickly worsening—an intense mix of fear and stress. Lissa didn't want to believe it, but I could already tell where Dimitri was heading.
"There must be a record of it somewhere, Dimitri," Klara said at last, her tone sharp. "You must've learned it from somewhere too."
"I did. From the Alchemist database, which I accessed thanks to Sydney Sage's cooperation while she was hiding with us in California. Claudia's official records contain very little information—and certainly nothing about her mental health. Here is all the data on Claudia Drozdov available to the guardians, gathered with the help of Guardian Croft."
Dimitri passed around a few copies of a document. While everyone was busy reviewing the materials he had prepared, Lissa caught his eye and subtly pointed at Klara. The corner of Dimitri's mouth twitched in a hint of a smile, but he didn't show any satisfaction otherwise. He nodded at her in thanks.
After glancing through the document, Lissa had to admit Dimitri was right. There was barely any information about Claudia and not a single note regarding any disorders. Lissa felt her heartbeat quicken—stress, fear over Klara's reaction, and excitement all at once.
"Guardian Croft, is this all the information a guardian can have about Claudia Drozdov?" Dimitri asked our leader.
Hans reviewed the materials thoroughly and nodded.
"Confirmed. At Belikov's request, we compiled everything together."
"Then…"
"Dimitri, you must have told me about this after returning from California," Klara said calmly. "I couldn't have just made it up."
"Of course, that's a possibility," Dimitri replied. "Which is why I wasn't planning to jump to conclusions. But that's what led me to continue the investigation, with help from Criss Walkman, who oversaw the technical aspects."
Lissa noticed Klara's aura boiling with agitation, but I could tell Dimitri was watching her closely, waiting for any suspicious signs. He looked at Criss and nodded, giving him the floor.
Criss stood up, adjusted his glasses, and cleared his throat. His voice trembled slightly, revealing his nervousness.
"At Guardian Belikov's request, I dug into phone calls made from the prince's cell. There were nearly several thousand calls. What's more, the prince owns multiple phones, which complicates things—makes tracking his communications nearly impossible. Luckily, during the attack in California, Guardian Belikov took a phone from one of the prince's men, and using that, I was able to trace the prince's internal network."
Criss shot a nervous glance at Dimitri, who stepped back in to speak.
"Criss managed to determine which number within the Court had contacted the prince's network… and here it is."
He pulled out his phone and pressed a button. Everyone held their breath, and the room sank into complete silence. And then, the tense silence was broken by the ringtone of a phone—from Klara's pocket. She closed her eyes and exhaled. Gasps echoed around the room.
"Take her," Hans ordered his voice grave.
Everything happened in an instant. Lissa's guardians formed a protective wall around her, blocking her view of the events, but over Harvey's shoulder, she glimpsed Klara being escorted out by four guardians, her hands bound behind her back, her head bowed. She didn't resist—she knew she had no chance against such numbers.
The guardians clustered around Dimitri to calmly and thoroughly go over all the evidence he had presented, as well as other clues implicating Klara. Hans flipped through everything feverishly, bombarding Dimitri with questions, even about the smallest details—clearly desperate to uncover the truth or maybe hoping to find some sign that Dimitri had been wrong. Dimitri explained everything with patience, and when Lissa came closer, they exchanged a look full of mutual relief.
"Dimitri, that was... wow," she smiled at him, full of pride. She hugged him, and he gratefully accepted the embrace.
"Thanks, Liss. Now Rose can return to Court in peace. They'll finally be safe." I saw how the satisfaction on his face slowly gave way to worry. I should've known that was his main motivation all along.
Lissa touched his arm in a comforting gesture, though it didn't ease the tension in his features.
"Soon. Very soon."
I smiled to myself. They had no idea just how soon.
For a moment, I thought about calling the whole thing off, going back safely to Court, and returning with backup. But first, there was no guarantee the prince wouldn't disappear the moment he lost contact with Malvin and Klara. And second, we were literally minutes away.
"Jill, get down on the floor," I said quietly when I saw on the GPS that we were five minutes from the target. Jill obediently dropped to the floor and hugged her knees tightly. I squeezed her hand, and we shared a deep look. I hoped mine said "It's going to be okay," and not "I hope I'm not leading us to certain death."
The first car was ahead of us, driven by David; Ian was behind the wheel of the third. It was just past noon when we approached the gates of the prince's estate. Everything looked just like the satellite images— a beautiful two-story house, surrounded by vast greenery, with no other homes nearby. The estate gate stood firm, but we had the keys. I held my breath as the first vehicle passed through the entrance. We stayed silent while Derek calmly drove us past the boundary.
Just as Malvin had told us, two guards were stationed by the door. As David drove around to deal with the third guard at the back, our car and the third vehicle parked side by side in front of the main entrance. The guards were watching us closely, but the familiar cars lowered their suspicion. Without hesitation, I and the other guy—Vernon—rolled down our windows and opened fire on the surprised guards. They reached for their guns but collapsed before they could do anything.
We didn't wait. Derek and I jumped out of our car, along with the guys from the third vehicle. I heard gunfire from the other side of the property. Lev and Ian drove Jill to a safe spot, away from the front of the house. I felt my heart clench as I saw her disappear out of view, but I couldn't let her risk herself by staying with us.
Three of the boys dragged the wounded guards away from the front door while we took position on either side of the house, waiting for the remaining guards. Soon, David and the rest of the first car joined us.
"We got one," he said over the comms. I nodded and updated him on our side. We waited a bit longer, guns aimed at the shut doors, but no one came through. Not a good sign—it meant they were planning an ambush from inside.
We had anticipated that. Half of us stayed at the front entrance while the rest, led by David, moved toward the back. Once he signaled they were in position, I gave the order to breach. I stood at the front, adjusted my goggles and helmet, and on the count of three, David and I pushed inside.
A man stood in the hallway, gun raised. I didn't even have time to aim before a crushing pain tore through my chest.
No, no, no, no, no. Not again.
I collapsed, the air knocked out of me as my head slammed into the ground. The sound of gunfire was drowned out by a deafening ringing in my ears. I couldn't breathe from the pain. My body refused to react. Memories of the last time I'd been shot surged back so vividly that I couldn't tell what was real and what was a flashback. All I knew was the searing pain near my heart, the same ringing in my ears, and the inability to breathe. It felt just like last time. I was bleeding out. I was dying.
Panic overtook me, making it impossible to think straight. Under my eyelids, I saw Dimitri and Lissa leaning over me, horror etched across their faces. They knew it too—I was dying.
Someone dragged me to the side and knelt beside me, shouting something but I couldn't hear a word. I ignored them and reached toward the wound. But instead of blood, my fingers found the thick fabric of a vest.
A vest.
I was wearing a vest.
I wasn't dying.
I shut my eyes and repeated those two facts to myself, grounding my spiraling thoughts and forcing my body to calm. When I opened them, I saw David leaning over me. The rest of the team was scanning the area, guns ready.
"Rose?" David's voice cut through the noise, inspecting me like I had done with Lev earlier. I nodded and swallowed against the dryness in my mouth.
"I'm okay. He hit the vest," I gasped, still struggling to catch my breath.
I was trembling all over as I came down from the panic, but I tried to stand. Someone offered me a hand and I took it, rising on shaky legs and working to compose myself.
"We've got the one from inside, so it's possible the only one left is—"
David didn't finish his sentence, drowned out by the sound of gunfire. We dropped to the ground and started looking for cover. Around us, glass shattered from porcelain decorations, cabinet doors, and crystal chandeliers.
I hid behind one of the oak credenzas with David. I signaled him to cover me, and I was just about to peek out when Ian, who was guarding the corridors, beat me to it. As the attacker looked the other way, Ian leaned out from his hiding spot and shot him in the arm. The man dropped his weapon, and the rest of the team jumped on him. In moments, David and I had him tied up.
We were breathing heavily, unwilling to believe that this could actually be the end of the fighting. I ordered everyone to stay alert and keep watch for any threats. I checked in to make sure Jill was okay. We sent a few guys to sweep the ground floor while David and I led our small unit upstairs.
We moved slowly, silently, up the wooden staircase. I didn't have the mental space to appreciate the lavish, classically decorated interior. I had to stay focused on potential threats.
We approached the first door on the floor. David held his gun ready while I turned the doorknob, and together we burst into a room that looked like a shared bedroom. Empty. We double-checked and moved on, leaving the door open. The second room, what looked like the master bedroom, was also empty. As we approached the third room, we noticed the door slightly ajar.
We stood in total silence, and in that stillness, our trained ears caught the sound of quickened breathing—panting.
"One person?" I whispered almost inaudibly to David. He tilted his head slightly as if to say "maybe." But then I saw a faint reflection in the glass of the bathroom door. In the gap near the edge of the door, a man was standing, gun at the ready.
I motioned for David to stop. I pointed to the man's reflection in the glass, and David froze. We looked at each other, both realizing we had no good option. We couldn't flank him, and we couldn't shoot him without exposing ourselves to his line of fire. He, on the other hand, had a major advantage—a clear line of sight, cover from the walls and door, and a ready weapon. David couldn't cover me in that position—whoever stepped into his range first would be dead.
David shook his head.
"We can't go in, Rose," he whispered barely audibly. I understood. He wasn't ready to give his life or sacrifice one of the others. And I wasn't about to do that either—we'd already lost too many lives because of that prince. I nodded and, still keeping my gun aimed at the door, decided to start negotiating.
"Drop the weapon. We have the advantage—you won't beat us all," I said loudly and clearly. Surprisingly, my voice didn't shake—I must have sounded much more confident than I felt.
The guard didn't respond. In the reflection, I saw he didn't move a muscle. David looked at me with eyes full of worry. So much for his faith in me.
"We didn't come here to kill you. Unlike you, we're not murderers. We won't hurt you or the prince. But if you don't surrender, you will die. I think that's inevitable. So I'll ask you nicely one more time—put down your gun if you don't want to die for nothing."
I saw him flinch slightly, but he still didn't respond. My arms were starting to tremble from holding the heavy weapon up so long.
"Even if you hurt one of us, someone else will take you down and we'll still get to the prince. Someone will die, you will die, and we'll still reach him. Or no one has to die, and we can talk like civilized people. Is it really worth dying pointlessly for one of them?"
"For her ," he said, his voice tight. I could see his hand trembling—holding a gun up that long isn't easy. For a girl? For Jill? For Lissa? Suddenly, I understood.
"For Claudia?" I asked gently. I saw him freeze, clearly shocked that I knew. "We're not going to hurt Claudia. I know you want to help her in some way. We're not leaving her to fend for herself."
"You know what they'll do to her, Sasha," a new voice spoke. The prince. My blood boiled, but I couldn't lose the negotiation.
"You think Drozdov will have the means to help her now? That she's safe in his hands? I assure you, if anyone can help her now, it's Queen Lissa. And she won't lift a finger if anyone gets hurt here."
I heard a heavy sigh from behind the door, followed by a slight movement.
"I'm putting the weapon down, where you can see it," he said, gently placing the gun on the floor. A wave of relief swept over me.
"Smart choice, Sasha. Now show us your hands, slowly." He did as I asked. "Now come out. We won't hurt you."
Sasha stepped out with his hands raised. I nodded, and Derek and another guy came over and grabbed him by the arms. Because of his cooperation, there was no need for force.
David and I were the first to enter the prince's room. He sat behind a massive oak desk, looking at us with defeat in his eyes. There was no one else in the room.
I could feel every nerve in my body buzzing. There stood the man responsible for so much pain, so much death. The man who had hurt and persecuted Jill. The man who had sent me and Dimitri to die. The man who wouldn't hesitate to kill me if he had the chance.
But now, there was no fight left in him. He knew he wouldn't win. He knew we'd kill him if he resisted. He knew that the only hope left for his daughter was to beg us for mercy. He no longer held any power over us—no hidden spies at court, no army of assassins, no loyal guards, and certainly no numerical or tactical advantage. All he could do now was surrender.
The rush of victory made my head spin. On shaky legs, I stepped up to him, looked him straight in the eye, and smiled with a mocking bow.
"At last, Your Royal Highness."