Maddox’s POV
As soon as Alina touched her necklace, I was on high alert, scanning the room for any potential threats. Charles Qozlok, a rough-looking guy with scars, had been asking too many questions about her past. When Alina stood up to leave, I rushed to intercept her before things could get ugly. But it seemed that fate had a different plan for us.
Suddenly, two men in dark suits stepped out from behind the bar, blocking our way. The atmosphere in the room shifted; conversations halted, and people discreetly reached for hidden weapons.
“Gentlemen,” one of the men said, his strong Russian accent noticeable. “I believe there’s been some confusion.”
Qozlok didn’t seem suspicious at all. Instead, he looked compromised.
“We need to get out of here,” I whispered to Alina, pulling her
