Chaos erupted.
The chair hit the guard square in the chest, knocking him backward. His gun clattered across the concrete floor.
Isla dove for it.
Roman's other guards reacted instantly, swinging their weapons toward her, but Killian moved faster.
Despite his injuries, despite barely being able to stand, he was suddenly a whirlwind of controlled violence.
The knife appeared in his hand—where had he been hiding it?—and the nearest guard went down with a scream, clutching his throat.
"COVER HER!" Killian roared at Luca.
Luca was already moving, his own gun drawn, laying down suppressing fire that forced Roman's men to scatter.
Isla's fingers closed around the fallen guard's weapon just as boots thundered outside.
The warehouse doors exploded inward.
Not just Luca. A dozen men in tactical gear stormed in, moving with military precision. Killian's people. His soldiers.
The odds shifted violently.
