The second Isabella pressed the detonator, the warehouse floor beneath Katerina's men exploded into chaos.
A controlled blast — fire flaring, crates flying — swallowed the space in light and thunder.
Screams rang out.
Men scrambled, choking on smoke and dust, their formation broken.
Isabella ducked low behind the catwalk rail as the heat surged upward. She could already hear Alexander's voice in her earpiece.
"Go, go, go—take out the east flank. Isabella, stay put."
But Isabella didn't stay put.
She had waited too long for this.
Through the smoke, she could still see Katerina—still standing, somehow untouched, a devil in white with ash clinging to her lashes.
Isabella descended the steps.
Katerina turned as if she'd been expecting her.
"You always did like a little fire," she said coolly, brushing soot from her shoulder.
"Is that how you cope with failure? Blow everything up and hope the truth burns with it?"
"You shouldn't have come," Isabella replied, stepping into the clearing between fallen crates and wreckage.
"Or maybe you should've brought more men."
"I don't need more," Katerina said, and then with a snap of her fingers—two remaining guards lunged from behind the wreckage.
Isabella barely had time to twist, dodging the first and catching the second's arm mid-strike. She moved like instinct now, like memory sharpened into muscle. She drove her knee up, knocked the breath from the guard's lungs, then pivoted just in time to see the other—
A shot rang out.
He dropped.
Alexander stepped into view behind her, lowering his pistol, eyes cold.
"I told you to stay put."
"And let her walk out again?" Isabella snapped.
Katerina laughed—genuinely, bitterly.
"You two… adorable. I almost feel guilty."
From beneath her jacket, she pulled a sleek black remote.
Isabella's blood ran cold.
Katerina's smile turned wolfish.
"You didn't think you were the only one who brought toys to the party, did you?"
Alexander raised his gun again. "Don't—"
But it was too late.
She pressed it.
A new explosion roared behind them — the south wall. Not part of their plan.
The blast was smaller, but enough to tear through one of the fuel lines.
Flames erupted, hungrily licking toward the ceiling.
The warehouse began to tremble.
"Katerina—!" Isabella surged forward, but Alexander caught her arm.
"No," he said. "It's over."
But it wasn't.
Because Katerina was already moving—slipping between fire and smoke, heading for the emergency access tunnel they thought was sealed.
"She's escaping," Isabella hissed.
Alexander met her gaze.
"Let her run. She's wounded. We own the city now. She won't get far."
But Isabella didn't look convinced.
By dawn, what remained of the warehouse was ash and twisted steel.
Alexander stood outside with his men, watching the fire crews contain the last embers.
Inside the armored SUV, Isabella sat silently, eyes distant, hands bloodied from combat and rubble.
Emilia slid in beside her, wide-eyed, shaking.
"I saw the news. They're saying it was an arms deal gone wrong."
"That's what we're letting them say," Isabella muttered.
Emilia swallowed.
"So… it's over?"
Isabella turned slowly, her voice flat.
"No. It's started."
Miles away, in a dimly lit clinic somewhere beyond city limits, Katerina winced as a bullet was pulled from her side.
"You were right," the medic muttered.
"She set the trap."
Katerina didn't answer. Her eyes were fixed on the ceiling. Cold. Focused.
"Should I contact your backup?"
Katerina's lips twitched, just faintly.
"No. Let them celebrate. Let them believe it's over."
She turned her head, eyes gleaming like coals.
"I've seen her strength now. It's impressive."
She exhaled, slow.
"Next time, I'll bring hell."