Lana’s heart hammered in her chest as the last shot rang out. The echo reverberated through the narrow alleyway, a reminder of how far she had come—and how far she still needed to go. Dean’s posture shifted, his casual stance replaced by something more calculating, more cautious. The smirk that had always accompanied his presence began to fade, replaced by a flicker of uncertainty. Lana knew he wasn’t accustomed to being on the defensive. He thrived on control, but for the first time, she was the one holding the power.
Her fingers tightened around the g*n, and she didn’t lower it. She kept her aim steady, her eyes locked on Dean, watching for any sign of what he might do next.
Dean’s gaze flicked to Vincent, who was still recovering from the earlier blow. His jaw was tight, eyes narrowed
