The engine of Damon’s black SUV roared as he sped through the dimly lit streets of New York. Alina sat beside him, her breath still unsteady from the chaos at the docks. The sharp scent of gunpowder clung to them, a bitter reminder that tonight had been close—too damn close.
In the backseat, Marco clutched his side where a bullet had grazed him, muttering curses under his breath. "That bastard was expecting us," he gritted out. "Adrian was too damn smug."
Damon’s jaw was set in a rigid line, his fingers gripping the steering wheel tightly. "Of course he was. He planned this. He wanted to lure us out, to see how far we’d go."
Alina turned to him, her pulse still racing. "But we got the shipment back, right?"
Damon’s eyes flickered toward her, something unreadable in his gaze. "We hit hi
