The gunshot wasn't the end of the world; it was the beginning of a new, more terrifying one.
The sound was a physical thing, a crack of thunder that sucked all the air from the room and left a ringing silence in its wake. I flinched, my body bracing for an impact that didn't come. The dark figure in the doorway crumpled, a marionette with its strings cut, hitting the polished concrete with a sickening, final thud.
For a single, suspended heartbeat, nothing moved.
Then, Lysander was a whirlwind of cold, efficient motion. He didn't look at me, didn't check the body. His focus was absolute, already three steps ahead. He kicked the intruder's weapon away, a sleek black pistol skittering under the desk, then moved to the study door, peering through the splintered frame into the chaos of the
