ELENA POV
I woke to the sound of splintering wood.
For a split second, I thought I was dreaming. Still trapped in that space between sleep and consciousness where reality hasn't quite solidified.
Then I heard Damien shout.
"GET DOWN!"
My eyes snapped open.
The warehouse door had been blown off its hinges. Smoke. Flashlights cutting through the darkness. Men in tactical gear pouring through, not Brighton's mercenaries this time.
FBI. The letters blazed across their vests.
"HANDS WHERE WE CAN SEE THEM! NOW!"
Adrien was already sitting up, hands raised. "Don't shoot! We're unarmed!"
I scrambled up, heart hammering, hands going up instinctively.
Damien had his gun halfway drawn before he froze, seeing the overwhelming force. At least fifteen agents, all armed, all pointing weapons at us.
"Drop the weapon! DROP IT NOW!"
He did. Let it clatter to the concrete floor.
