OWNED BY THE ENEMY

Chapter 13 ~ The First Strike

Elena gripped the dagger Adrian had given her, feeling the cool weight of it in her palm.

No turning back.

She had made her choice—Adrian’s side over her father’s—but now came the real test.

“Tell me the plan again,” she said, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

Adrian’s gaze flicked toward her, his lips twitching slightly, but he nodded. “We hit the warehouse, destroy the shipment, and make sure Esposito gets the message loud and clear.”

Elena nodded. “And if he’s there?”

“Then we improvise.” Adrian’s tone was low, promising danger.

They drove in tense silence. Beside her, Vincent, Adrian’s right-hand man, watched her closely. She could feel the doubt radiating off him like heat.

“You sure about this?” Vincent finally asked, his voice tinged with suspicion. “You’re one of them, after all.”

Elena met his stare without hesitation. “I was one of them.”

“People don’t just switch sides overnight.”

“I didn’t,” she said evenly. “I just finally woke up.”

Adrian’s fingers tapped against the steering wheel. “That’s enough, Vincent.”

The older man nodded once, but the doubt lingered in his eyes. Elena didn’t care. She wasn’t here to earn their trust with words. She would prove herself with actions.

The SUV came to a smooth stop a few blocks away from the warehouse.

It was a large, looming structure at the edge of the city, bathed in the flickering glow of streetlights. A chain-link fence surrounded the building, and through the gaps, Elena could see men patrolling the perimeter.

She recognized a few of them.

Her father’s men.

Her pulse quickened.

This was it.

Adrian’s voice cut through the silence. “We have twenty minutes before the deal goes down. We go in fast, we go in quiet. We make sure that shipment never leaves that warehouse.”

Elena clutched the dagger tighter.

You made your choice. Now prove it.

Adrian signaled, and they moved.

Vincent took point, slipping through the shadows, while Elena stayed close behind Adrian. Her breath was steady, her body coiled with tension, but her mind was clear.

They reached the perimeter fence. Adrian pulled out a pair of bolt cutters and sliced through the chain.

“Stick close,” he murmured.

Elena nodded, stepping through the opening.

Inside, the warehouse was dimly lit, the scent of oil and gunpowder thick in the air. Wooden crates stacked high along the walls, each marked with her father’s emblem.

This was it.

Adrian signaled to his men, and they spread out, planting small explosive charges along the stacks of weapons.

Elena followed closely, scanning for movement. Her heartbeat was a hammer in her ears. Then, from the shadows—

A voice. “Who’s there?”

She froze.

A figure stepped into the dim light. Broad shoulders, a familiar face twisted in suspicion.

One of her father’s men.

Dammit.

“Elena?” His brows furrowed, confusion flickering in his eyes.

She knew him—Luca Santoro. One of her father’s most trusted men.

“Elena, what are you doing here?” Luca’s hand twitched toward his gun.

Elena’s grip tightened around her dagger. Her body screamed at her to act, to strike first. But for one long moment, she hesitated.

Could she really do this?

Kill someone she had known for years? Someone who had once protected her?

Her hesitation was her mistake.

Luca’s eyes darkened with understanding.

“You’re with him,” he growled.

He went for his gun.

Adrian moved first.

A blur of motion. A flash of silver.

Then blood.

Luca’s body crumpled to the floor, a knife embedded in his throat. His eyes widened in shock before the light left them entirely.

Elena stared.

She should be horrified.

She should be disgusted.

Instead, all she could think was: That could have been me.

Adrian retrieved his knife from Luca’s throat, barely sparing the body a glance before turning back to her. His dark eyes were unreadable.

“You hesitated,” he said.

Elena swallowed hard.

She had.

She had known what she should do. Knew the risk. The moment Luca had seen her, she should have acted. But for one split second, she had frozen.

And now Adrian knew it.

She lifted her chin. “It won’t happen again.”

Adrian studied her for a long moment. Then he nodded once.

“Good,” he murmured. “Because next time, I won’t be there to clean up your mess.”

A sudden shout broke through the tension.

Adrian’s men had been seen.

Gunfire erupted in the warehouse, bullets ricocheting off metal crates. Shouts of alarm rang through the cavernous space.

Adrian grabbed her wrist and yanked her down behind a stack of boxes.

“Stay here,” he ordered.

She glared at him. “Like hell I will.”

Adrian sighed. “You are really bad at taking orders, you know that?”

Elena smirked. “Then stop giving them.”

Before he could argue, she slipped from his grasp and disappeared into the shadows, her heart hammering with exhilaration.

She had chosen this path.

Now, it was time to own it.

She moved like a phantom through the chaos, gripping the dagger tightly. She had no gun. No armor. Only the sharp edge of her own determination.

And for the first time in her life, she wasn’t running.

She was hunting.

And she knew exactly who her first target would be.

Giovanni Esposito was going to die by her hands.

Elena inhaled deeply as the SUV rumbled to a stop. The steady thrum of the engine beneath her did little to calm the storm inside her. Her fingers clenched around the cool weight of the dagger Adrian had given her, its presence both foreign and familiar in her grip.

No turning back.

Adrian had shown her the truth, and she had chosen her side. She was no longer just a pawn in her father’s game. She was a player now, and she would make her own moves.

Adrian glanced at her from the driver’s seat, his expression unreadable. “Let’s go.”

Vincent, who had been silent the entire ride, spoke up. “You sure she’s ready for this?”

Adrian’s gaze didn’t leave hers. “She’ll have to be.”

Elena didn’t hesitate as she stepped out of the vehicle, the cool night air prickling her skin. The warehouse loomed ahead, an imposing structure of rusted metal and shattered windows. The scent of saltwater and gasoline mingled in the breeze from the nearby docks.

She had been here before. Years ago, her father had brought her to meet Giovanni Esposito. She remembered his cold, assessing eyes as he had looked her over, offering a chuckle as he and her father shared a joke she wasn’t meant to understand.

Now, she was here to burn him to the ground.

Adrian and his men moved in silence, their figures slipping between the shadows. A handful of her father’s men guarded the entrance, their eyes scanning the docks. Their hands rested on their guns, their shoulders tight with tension.

They knew an attack could come. They just didn’t know when.

Adrian pressed his back against the side of the SUV and looked at her. “Take the one on the left.”

Elena nodded, gripping the pistol he had given her. Its weight was unfamiliar, but she found comfort in it. She was trained for this.

One of the guards stood a few feet away, his cigarette glowing red in the darkness. He took a deep drag, exhaling a thin stream of smoke. If he turned his head, he’d see them.

Elena raised the gun. Her hands trembled slightly, but she adjusted her grip and steadied herself.

She took a breath. Exhaled.

And pulled the trigger.

The silencer muffled the shot, and the guard’s body jerked before crumpling to the ground. The other guard barely had time to react before Adrian fired, his bullet hitting the man clean in the chest.

Silence.

Elena’s heart pounded. She had just killed a man.

But instead of the gut-wrenching horror she expected, she felt… nothing. No guilt, no remorse. Only a sharp, burning determination.

Adrian’s hand brushed hers as he motioned her forward. “You did good.”

She wasn’t sure if that was true. But she’d figure it out later.

Right now, she had a father to destroy.

Inside the warehouse, crates lined the walls, stacked nearly to the ceiling. The dim light from a handful of overhead lamps cast eerie shadows along the concrete floor. A handful of men were standing near the center of the room, talking in low voices, unaware of the storm about to descend.

Adrian motioned to his men. Vincent and two others melted into the shadows, moving into position. Elena swallowed, gripping her gun tighter.

She wasn’t just here to watch. She was here to act.

She caught sight of Giovanni Esposito near the center of the warehouse. He was speaking to someone over the phone, gesturing toward the crates.

Elena felt a rush of adrenaline.

This was it.

The moment she proved where her loyalties truly lay.

Adrian moved first, swift and silent. He raised his silenced gun and fired. The first man crumpled to the ground before he even saw it coming.

Panic spread through the warehouse. Her father’s men reached for their weapons, but Adrian’s team was already on them. Shots rang out, echoing through the vast space. Crates shattered, bullets ricocheting off metal beams.

Elena ducked behind a stack of wooden crates, her heart hammering. Then she spotted a man raising his rifle, aiming directly at Adrian’s back.

Without thinking, she reacted.

She stepped forward, raised her gun, and pulled the trigger.

The man collapsed.

Adrian’s head whipped around, his eyes locking on hers. For a moment, something flickered there—surprise, approval, something deeper. But there was no time for words.

Because the gunfire hadn’t stopped.

Elena pivoted just as another of her father’s men lunged at her, knife flashing in the dim light. She dodged, instinct taking over. Years of training drilled into her by her father came rushing back.

She twisted, using the momentum to slam her elbow into his ribs. He stumbled, cursing, and she took the opening—striking again, this time sending him sprawling to the ground. She pinned him there, her knee against his chest, her gun pressing against his temple.

He stilled.

“Your father will never forgive you,” he spat.

Elena didn’t flinch. “I don’t want his forgiveness.”

She pulled the trigger.

Another body fell. Another step closer to justice.

Breathing heavily, she turned back to Adrian. He had just knocked out the last of the guards, his gun still raised, smoke curling from the muzzle. The warehouse had gone silent.

Except for one sound. A slow clap.

Giovanni Esposito.

Dressed in a tailored suit, he stepped forward, unbothered by the c*****e around him. His face was lined with age, his salt-and-pepper beard neatly trimmed. His dark eyes held amusement, as if this was nothing more than an interesting game to him.

“Well,” he mused, brushing dust from his shoulder. “I didn’t see this coming.” He studied Adrian, then turned his gaze to Elena. His smirk widened. “But I should have.”

Elena’s heart pounded.

Giovanni tilted his head. “I’ll admit, I was looking forward to seeing you grovel, little Romanov. Your father will be… furious.” He chuckled. “Do you really think you’ll survive this?”

Elena’s fingers twitched around her gun, but Adrian’s voice cut through the tension.

“She’s with me,” he said smoothly. “That’s all you need to know.”

Giovanni sighed dramatically. “Pity. I liked you, girl.”

Adrian’s patience wore thin. “Where are my weapons, Esposito?”

Giovanni exhaled through his nose. “Do you really think I’d be foolish enough to bring them here without backup?” He gestured around the warehouse. “This is a drop point, not storage. Your shipment? Gone before you even arrived.” His smile was slow, taunting. “Did you think I wouldn’t hear about your little plans?”

Adrian’s jaw tensed. “You’re lying.”

A sharp whistle cut through the chaos. Within seconds, more men emerged from the shadows, rifles aimed directly at them. Elena’s stomach turned.

It was a trap.

And they had walked right into it.

Vincent cursed under his breath, shifting slightly, but Adrian didn’t move. He stood perfectly still, eyes locked on Giovanni. The tension between them stretched taut, electric and on the verge of snapping.

Giovanni took a step forward, the dim light catching the handle of the gun tucked into his coat. His voice was all silk. “You’re smart, Adrian. I’ll give you that. But your father? He was smarter.”

Elena flinched at the mention of her father.

Giovanni noticed. “Ah.” His smirk widened. “So it’s true. You’ve really turned against him.”

Elena lifted her chin. “He turned against me first.”

Giovanni chuckled. “I always told him raising a daughter like a son would come back to haunt him. Looks like I was right.”

Elena refused to let his words shake her.

“Where’s the shipment?” Adrian’s voice was razor-sharp.

Giovanni sighed. “Gone. And if you think you can just waltz in here and take what’s his, you’re more of a fool than I thought.”

A beat.

Then, suddenly—

BANG.

A gunshot rang through the air.

Elena’s eyes widened as Giovanni’s body jerked violently before crumpling to the ground.

She whipped around.

Adrian still held his gun, smoke curling from the barrel. His face was unreadable, but his voice was cold.

“No more middlemen.”

And just like that, the first strike had been made.

Her father’s war had just begun.