Gunfire erupted.
Bullets ripped through the night, slamming into the SUV, shattering glass, embedding into the trees around them.
Lucas grabbed Isla, shoving her behind the smoking wreckage of the car just as another round of bullets whizzed past them.
Vincent cursed, diving for cover beside them. "Next time, Calloway, just hand over the damn company!"
"Shut up, Vincent," Isla snapped, her heart pounding violently.
Lucas pulled his gun from his holster, his green eyes sharp, calculating. "They have the advantage. We need to move before they flank us."
Isla’s breath came fast, uneven, adrenaline surging through her veins.
She had been in boardroom battles.
She had played corporate warfare.
But this—this was the kind of war that ended with people in body bags.
And tonight?
Edward
