"Pull back," Isabella ordered, her voice low but sharp as glass.
The gunfire outside was still rattling like thunder, but her men obeyed without hesitation. They melted into the shadows, slipping into the alleys like ghosts. The enemy was left standing, armed and ready, with no one left to fight.
From her vantage point on the roof, Isabella laughed softly, a sound that made her closest lieutenants shift uneasily.
"Every time," she said, swirling the dagger in her hand as though it were a glass of wine. "They prepare. They fight. They expect blood. And every time, we starve them of it. What do soldiers fear more than dying?" She tilted her head. "Pointlessness."
Her lieutenant, Sebastian , gave a nervous chuckle. "Command K won't hold much longer if we keep this up."
"They'll crumble from the inside," Isabella corrected, eyes flashing. "And when they do… we'll be there to sweep the ashes."
The heavy iron door creaked open behind her. A man stepped in—slender, sharp-jawed, eyes burning the same cruel fire as hers.
"Ah," Isabella purred. "My dear brother. I was wondering when you'd return."
He gave her a smirk, dropping a sealed folder on the table. "Straight from Command K. Their defensive routes, supply caches, even their escape tunnels. They trust me too much."
Isabella's lips curved. She opened the folder, scanning the papers quickly. "You've done well. Father would've slit your throat for treason, you know."
"And you?" he asked, almost teasing.
"I reward loyalty," she murmured, sliding her thumb over a map, tracing the lines that marked Dominic's stronghold. "Even when it's pointed in the wrong direction."
Her men exchanged uneasy looks, but Isabella's smile widened. She tapped the map where Command K's armory was marked.
"Tomorrow night," she said. "We let them think they're winning again. We strike their shipment, vanish before they can retaliate. And when they run back to their little fortress, we'll already have someone inside."
Her brother's grin sharpened. "They'll never see it coming."
"No," Isabella agreed, closing the folder with a snap. Her eyes glittered with cruel delight. "And that's the beauty of betrayal. It doesn't need an army. Just a knife in the dark."
She leaned closer, her voice a whisper meant only for him.
"Let him feel safe, brother. Let him believe he's building something strong. Then, when it matters most…" Her smile turned cold. "…you take it all away."
Her laughter filled the room, soft and poisonous. Outside, the fire from their raid burned higher, and Command K had no idea the real war was already inside their walls.
"It's like they can see through us," one of Dominic's lieutenants muttered, slamming his fist against the map-stained table. "It's like they're reading our damn minds."
"Whoever is controlling this army only wants one this ...our lives "
"I have something to say."
It wasn't the tone. It wasn't the volume. It was the weight. The men froze because they all knew who she was.
The missus wasn't a soldier on paper — but in truth, she was trained harder than all of them. She bled harder. Fought dirtier. Killed without hesitation. Some of them still had nightmares about the first time they saw her work, about the way she smiled when the killing started.
She was a ghost in silk, a psychotic killer wrapped in calm. And when she spoke, every man in Command K listened, because they knew if they didn't, she'd prove her point in blood.
"What?" he asked.
She stepped forward, fearless though her pulse thundered. "You're all wrong. This isn't defense anymore—it's suicide. They want you here. They want you exhausted, waiting for the next blow until there's nothing left to defend."
"And what do you suggest, girl?" one asked , doubts creeping.
Elena ignored him, eyes on Dominic. "Leave. Tonight. Quietly. Take everyone and abandon Command K. Don't give them what they're expecting."
The war room stiffened after Elena spoke.
No eruption, no shouting. Just a ripple of unease. Chairs creaked as men shifted. A cough. A mutter too low to be understood.
They were dissatisfied — that much was clear — but none of them dared raise their voice. Not with her standing there. Not with those cold eyes sweeping across the room like a blade.
Dominic raised a hand, silencing them. His gaze narrowed, searching Elena. "Why, Elena?"
"Because I have a hunch. Something in me is screaming this isn't safe. If you stay, you'll bleed for walls that are already broken. But if you move—if you strike first—you take back control. They don't expect that. They expect you here, waiting to die."
The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating.
Finally, Dominic straightened. His voice was low, dangerous. "Pack everything. Burn what you can't carry. At midnight, we move."
The men looked at him in disbelief, but none dared argue.
Later, in the dead of night, Command K stood empty—abandoned like a carcass. Dominic's convoy cut through the back roads like shadows. Guided by Elena's instinct, they drove straight toward Trevor's hidden armory, smashing through defenses with the rage of men who finally had the upper hand. Explosions lit the sky. Isabella's weapons went up in flames, her careful game collapsing in a single night.
And Elena—clutching Dominic's hand through the roar of fire—knew her hunch had saved them all.