The alarm's shrill cry reverberated through the estate, a sharp reminder that time was never on their side. Gabe moved like a shadow forged from steel, every step precise, every gesture commanding. His men snapped into action at the sound of his clipped orders, their boots striking against stone floors in perfect rhythm.
But for Lottie, the world blurred. The taste of his kiss still lingered, fire beneath her skin, clashing violently with the icy dread of the alarm. She followed close, her pulse a chaotic drum, her mind caught between the man and the war.
They emerged into the courtyard. The sky had barely shrugged off night; a dim bruise of dawn lingered on the horizon, casting the grounds in an eerie half-light. Marco was already there, barking instructions into his radio, his face taut with urgency.
"Perimeter breach," Marco reported the moment he saw Gabe. "South gate. Two trucks, armed. They've disabled the outer cameras."
Gabe swore under his breath, his jaw flexing. "How long?"
"Minutes. Maybe less."
"Double the east flank. Hold them at the gate," Gabe snapped. His eyes darted once toward Lottie, then back to Marco. "No one gets through."
Marco hesitated, his gaze flickering between them. Then he nodded and vanished into the swarm of men.
Lottie stood still, rooted by a storm she couldn't name. The air vibrated with tension—men shouting, weapons loaded, the hum of engines somewhere beyond the wall. She'd known danger was coming. She hadn't expected it to feel like this—so close, so real, pressing against her lungs until breathing became a task.
Gabe turned to her suddenly, his hand catching her arm. His grip was firm but not unkind. "Stay inside. Don't argue."
The instinct to fight his command bubbled up, reckless and fierce. "And if they break through?" she demanded. "What then? I sit in the dark and hope you come back?"
His eyes burned with something fierce. "If they break through, I'll burn this place to the ground before I let them touch you."
The promise wasn't comfort—it was war wrapped in devotion. And it terrified her almost as much as it made her chest ache.
"Gabe—"
But the thunder of gunfire cut her off.
The first volley cracked in the distance, the unmistakable rhythm of assault rifles. Shouts followed, men barking orders, the estate alive with chaos. Gabe shoved her toward the stone archway leading back inside.
"Go. Now."
She stumbled back a step, her heart wrenching as he pulled a weapon from his holster. He was already turning away, his silhouette framed against the fractured dawn, moving toward the fight.
And something inside her snapped.
She couldn't run. Not anymore. Not after what he'd told her, what he'd shown her. Not after that kiss that still burned like a brand on her soul.
"No," she whispered, more to herself than him. Her hands curled into fists. She wouldn't hide in the dark while he bled in the light.
She ducked back inside, ignoring the men shouting at her to stay down, and slipped through the corridors like a ghost. She remembered the armory Marco had shown her, tucked near the north hall—a room lined with steel and shadows. Her fingers shook as she opened the cabinet, the cold weight of a pistol settling into her palm.
She'd never killed a man. But tonight, survival left no room for innocence.
Outside, Gabe's world was fire and steel. Bullets cracked against the stone wall as he took cover behind a pillar, returning fire with ruthless precision. His men moved with disciplined coordination, but the sheer force of Vitale's strike team pressed hard, forcing them toward the inner gates.
Through the smoke, he caught sight of one of the trucks ramming the south barricade, its engine roaring. Sparks flew as metal ground against reinforced steel.
"Hold the line!" Gabe roared, his voice carrying above the chaos.
Marco slid into place beside him, weapon raised. "They've got heavier artillery than we thought. This isn't a scare tactic—he wants the estate tonight."
"Then he'll drown in his own blood trying."
The truck surged forward again, the barricade groaning under the weight. Gabe's finger tightened on the trigger—
A single shot rang out, sharp and clean. The truck's front tire exploded, the vehicle skidding violently before slamming sideways into the barricade.
Gabe's eyes snapped toward the source.
And there she was.
Lottie. Standing on the balcony above the courtyard, her arms steady, the pistol braced in her hands. Smoke curled from the barrel.
For a moment, the entire battle seemed to pause—his men stunned, Vitale's soldiers shouting in confusion. Gabe's chest clenched, fury and awe colliding inside him.
"Goddamn it, Lottie," he muttered, even as his pulse thundered with savage pride.
The pause broke as bullets rained upward, forcing her to duck. Gabe's heart lurched. Without thinking, he abandoned cover and surged forward, firing with deadly accuracy, cutting down two of Vitale's men before they could aim again.
Marco swore. "She's going to get herself killed!"
"Not on my watch." Gabe's voice was a growl, lethal and raw.
Lottie's breath came in sharp bursts as she scrambled back from the balcony, heart pounding from the shot she'd taken. Her hands trembled now that the adrenaline rush ebbed, but she forced herself to hold on to the pistol.
This was her choice. To fight, not to hide.
The door behind her slammed open. A man in black stormed through, weapon raised. Instinct, not thought, pulled her trigger. The recoil jolted her arm, but the man fell, collapsing in a spray of crimson.
Her stomach lurched. She staggered back, bile rising, but she swallowed it down. No time. No room for weakness.
Another shadow lunged. She raised the pistol again, only for a larger body to intercept.
Gabe.
He moved like death itself, swift and merciless, his blade slicing across the intruder's throat before the man hit the ground.
Lottie froze, wide-eyed. Gabe's face was a mask of fury and fear, his hand clamping around her wrist.
"What the hell are you doing?" he snarled.
Her breath shook. "Fighting. With you."
His eyes blazed, his chest heaving, torn between dragging her out and pulling her closer. "You could've died."
"But I didn't," she shot back, her chin lifting. "And I won't. Not if I'm beside you."
For a heartbeat, silence pressed around them, louder than the gunfire below.
Then Gabe pulled her into him, his forehead slamming against hers, their breaths mingling in a ragged storm. "You're going to be the death of me," he whispered harshly.
Her lips trembled into the faintest of smiles. "Then we burn together."
Outside, the battle raged. But in that instant—in the shadow of blood and fire—they were unshakable.