Chapter 7: The Unknown Commander
1041 Words
Lucian POV
The explosion tore through the west wing before the echo of the first gunshot had even died.
“Down!” I roared, shoving the nearest guard aside as debris rained from the ceiling. Stone shattered. Glass screamed. The mansion—my mansion—groaned like a wounded beast.
So this was it.
Not a warning.
Not a probe.
A full-scale assault.
I hit the floor, rolling behind a marble pillar as bullets chewed through the wall where my head had been seconds earlier. The scent of smoke and burning wiring filled my lungs. My men scrambled into formation, boots pounding, weapons clicking into place.
“Seal the east corridor!” I barked into the comm.
“No one gets through. No one!”
Static crackled back—then a panicked voice. “Boss, we’ve lost cameras on Levels Two and Three. They’re inside already.”
Inside.
My jaw tightened. That meant only one thing.
Someone had betrayed me.
I rose just enough to fire, dropping a shadow moving through the smoke. The body hit the floor hard, blood spreading across Persian rugs worth more than most men’s lives. I didn’t blink.
War didn’t wait for sentiment.
Another blast shook the hall. The lights flickered, then died completely, plunging us into chaos.
Emergency reds snapped on, bathing the corridor in hellish glow.
And that’s when a thought cut through the noise like a blade.
Her.
My chest tightened.
“Status on the captive?” I demanded.
No answer.
I cursed and pushed forward, ignoring the protest in my ribs. Every instinct screamed that this attack wasn’t just about territory or power.
It was about taking something from me.
Isla POV
The first explosion threw me against the wall.
I screamed—not from pain, but from shock—as the lights died and darkness swallowed the room. My wrists burned against the restraints, heart hammering so hard I thought it might tear free.
Gunfire.
Real gunfire.
Not the distant kind you hear in movies. This was close. Violent. Alive.
I pressed my back to the cold wall, breathing shallowly. The mansion that had felt like a prison hours ago now felt like a grave.
Footsteps thundered past my door.
Shouting. Screams. A body hit the floor outside, followed by silence so thick it hurt.
Tears blurred my vision, but I swallowed them back. Crying wouldn’t save me. Fear wouldn’t either.
Lucian’s face flashed in my mind—cold eyes, controlled rage, the way he looked at me like I was both a liability and a secret he hadn’t decided what to do with.
Was this because of me?
The door handle rattled.
I froze.
The lock clicked.
The door creaked open slowly, deliberately, as if whoever stood outside wanted me to feel every second of it.
A silhouette filled the doorway.
Not Lucian.
The man smiled when he saw me.
“Well,” he drawled, stepping inside, gun gleaming in the red emergency light. “Looks like Christmas came early.”
My blood ran cold.
Lucian POV
I knew the second something went wrong.
Call it instinct. Call it obsession. But my chest burned with certainty.
“They’re heading for her,” I said flatly.
Silence answered me.
Then: “Boss—north wing compromised.”
I didn’t respond. I was already moving.
Gunfire chased me down the corridor as I sprinted, boots sliding on marble slick with blood. My men tried to keep up, but I was faster—angrier.
This was my fault.
I had underestimated my enemies. Thought they’d play the long game. Thought wrong.
I kicked open a door, clearing the room in seconds, then moved again. Smoke stung my eyes. My ears rang. Somewhere nearby, a woman screamed.
Not that scream.
I reached the stairwell and took it two steps at a time, heart pounding harder with every floor.
If they touched her—
The thought finished itself with violence.
Isla POV
He circled me slowly, like a predator enjoying the fear of its prey.
“Relax,” he said. “If we wanted you dead, you’d already be bleeding.”
“That’s… not comforting,” I whispered.
He laughed. “You’re braver than I expected.”
I tightened my fists, nails biting into my palms.
“What do you want?”
“You,” he replied easily. “And maybe Lucian’s head as a bonus.”
My breath caught.
So it was about me.
He stepped closer, lifting the gun just enough to make the threat unmistakable. “You’re valuable, sweetheart. Leverage.”
The word made my stomach twist.
Before he could reach me, the door behind him exploded inward.
The man barely had time to turn.
A single shot rang out.
He dropped.
Lucian stood in the doorway, gun smoking, eyes burning with something far more dangerous than anger.
Relief slammed into me so hard my knees nearly buckled.
Lucian POV
She was shaking.
Alive—but shaken.
I crossed the room in three strides, cutting the restraints from her wrists without a word. Her skin was ice-cold when my fingers brushed hers.
“You hurt?” I demanded.
She shook her head, still staring at the body on the floor. “He said I was leverage.”
My jaw clenched.
“They don’t get to use what’s mine.”
The words were out before I could stop them.
Her eyes snapped to mine.
Too much.
The building shuddered again, reminding me this wasn’t the time.
“We’re not done,” I said grimly. “This was just the opening move.”
She swallowed. “What happens now?”
I looked toward the shattered window, smoke pouring into the night.
“Now,” I said, pulling her with me as alarms wailed, “everyone learns what happens when they come for my house.”
And somewhere deep in my chest, I knew the truth I hadn’t wanted to face.
This war wasn’t just starting.
It was personal.
As we reached the corridor, my comm crackled one last time.
“Boss… they weren’t here to kill her.”
I stopped cold.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
The voice hesitated. Then—
“They were here to take her alive.”
- Writer
