The air in the alley was thick with tension, a mixture of dust and the metallic scent of blood still lingering in the air. The sounds of the city—distant car horns, the murmur of late-night conversations—seemed muffled, as though they were too far away to matter. All that existed now was the broken silence between them.
Lana stood still, her grip tightening on her weapon, every muscle in her body coiled and ready. Matilda, standing tall beside her, was as cold and calculating as ever, her posture unwavering despite the chaos that had just unfolded. The men Dean had once controlled—his enforcers—lay scattered around the alley, taken down in a matter of moments. Dean himself, once an untouchable force, was now on his knees, disarmed and bound, the remnants of his former power reduced to lit
