The air in the warehouse was a suffocating cocktail of cordite, ozone, and fresh blood. Gunfire ceased as quickly as it had erupted, leaving behind a ringing silence broken only by the agonized groans of Gabriel’s downed bodyguards and the steady, rhythmic drips of diesel from the ceiling pipes.
Gabriel de la Cruz was on his knees, his tailored suit ruined, a trickle of blood running from his hairline where a stray piece of shattered glass had grazed him. He looked up, his aristocratic poise completely shattered, his chest heaving with terrified, ragged breaths.
"Feyre..." Gabriel whimpered, reaching out a trembling, gloved hand toward me. "Tell them... tell them this is a mistake! My family—"
"Your family owns nothing here, boy," Victor Vance’s voice cut through the haze like a heavy b
