The warehouse was a battlefield of tension, each second stretching like an eternity as the masked gunmen closed in. Leila’s breath caught in her throat. Ethan’s hand gripped hers tightly as if sensing the fear that pulsed through her body. The leader of the armed men stepped forward, his gaze fixed on Ethan beneath the shadow of his mask.
“You’ve been running for too long, Graves,” the man growled. “But it ends tonight. Make it easy on yourself—come with us.”
Ethan didn’t flinch. His eyes were locked on the man, calculating, planning. Beside him, Isabella subtly shifted her stance, her fingers still poised near the inside of her coat where she had reached moments earlier. Leila’s mind raced, wondering if she was armed, ready to fight back. But against six men with automatic weapons? The
