The safehouse was a skeleton of a building—concrete walls cracked and worn, windows blacked out, the air thick with the stale scent of old smoke and damp. It wasn’t safety, not really. It was a pause. A breath before the next plunge.
Amelia stumbled inside first, her legs still weak from the escape, the adrenaline crash hitting her like a wave. She braced against the nearest wall, chest heaving, ears ringing with the ghosts of gunfire that hadn’t yet left her.
Dominic was right behind her, his face set in stone, though the blood trailing from the gash at his temple betrayed how close they’d come. He slammed the heavy door shut, bolting it in three places before turning on Lucian with a glare that could have cracked steel.
“You reckless son of a—”
Lucian dropped his bloodied blade on th
