The scream ends in a sob. We find the maid, Maria, huddled in the laundry chute of the servant quarters. She’s bleeding from a gash on her forehead where the intruders Pistol-whipped her, but she’s alive.
The distraction team didn't have time to finish the job before Stavros’s men swept the floor.
I stand in the doorway, watching the medics load her onto a stretcher. The red emergency lights have finally stopped pulsing, replaced by the harsh, clinical glare of the backup generators.
"She’s lucky," Leo says, holstering his weapon. "They got sloppy."
"They weren't sloppy," I say, my voice cold. "They were rushing because we killed their main force."
I turn to Stavros. He’s wiping a speck of blood from his cheek, watching me with that dark, predatory intensity that hasn't faded since t
