Lana’s shot rang out, a sharp, echoing c***k that pierced the stillness of the alleyway. Vincent, reacting quickly, ducked behind the crumpled remains of the car, his broad frame shielded by its bulk. The bullet had missed him by inches, but the message was clear: she wasn’t backing down.
Dean’s cold gaze flicked from the car to Lana. His lips curled into a small, knowing smile, the same smile he always wore when he was in control. But there was something different in the air now—an unspoken shift in the balance of power. Lana wasn’t backing down, and that made him pause, just for a moment.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, Lana,” he said softly, his voice almost a purr. “And now, you’ve got Vincent involved.”
Lana’s grip on her g*n tightened, her fingers cold against the steel. She kne
