Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
I grit my teeth, adrenaline pumping hard through my veins. We’re not letting them dig in. We move fast, exchanging fire with the guards as we inch our way closer. Every step feels like a battle, but we’re gaining ground, and I can feel the momentum shifting in our favor. Christopher has nowhere to go.
Another gunshot rings out, closer this time, and Vin returns fire with deadly precision, taking out the shooter. We’re almost at the entrance now, just a few feet away. My heart slams against my ribcage as I catch sight of the door swinging open, and one of Christopher’s men makes a run for it.
“Don’t let him get to the boat!” I shout, but before I can move, Harper takes him down with a clean shot to the leg. He collapses, screaming in pain as we push forward.
The warehouse doors creak open, revealing the chaos inside—more men, more gunfire, and somewhere in the middle of it all, Christopher. I can practically feel him watching us, waiting for his moment to slip away like the snake he is. But not tonight.
"Move in!" Vin orders, and we surge forward, ready to end this once and for all.
As we advance through the dimly lit warehouse, my eyes lock onto two figures up ahead. One of them, unmistakably, is Christopher. But the second figure next to him sends a fresh wave of adrenaline surging through my veins.
“It’s Enzo!” I shout at Vin, who instantly narrows his eyes, the tension between us heightening.
Christopher and Enzo are deep in conversation, too distracted to notice how close we’ve gotten. For a moment, everything seems to slow down—the hum of the chopper in the distance, the sound of boots on the concrete floor, the soft clicking of our guns as we prepare for what’s to come. Every fiber of my being is tuned into this moment. We’re almost there, inches from ending this nightmare that has haunted Eva and so many others.
“We need Enzo alive,” Vin’s voice cuts through the haze, sharp and commanding.
I give a curt nod, the weight of the mission pressing down on me. We need to hand Enzo over to Lazarus. If we lose him, we lose everything. But Christopher? He’s mine. I’ve been waiting for this moment since the second he laid his hands on Eva.
“Leave Christopher to me,” I say through gritted teeth, my focus narrowing as I inch closer. My gun is steady in my hand, every muscle coiled, ready for action. My pulse thunders in my ears as I maneuver through the maze of crates and shadows, moving with calculated precision.
We fan out, Vin and Harper keeping their sights trained on Enzo while I close in on Christopher. My heart races, not from fear but from the certainty that this ends now. I watch Christopher's movements closely. I can tell he’s agitated, his body language rigid, like he knows his time is running out. He’s scanning the warehouse, probably trying to figure out his escape route. Too late for that.
I’m within striking distance now. I feel the adrenaline spike as I lock my gaze on him, watching his every twitch. He hasn't seen me yet, but I can see the calculation in his eyes, the growing panic as he realizes the walls are closing in.
Without warning, Enzo spots us and reaches for his gun.
“Go, go!” Vin barks, and chaos erupts.
Gunfire explodes from both sides. Enzo fires wildly, ducking behind a stack of crates, while Christopher bolts for the nearest exit. My heart slams against my chest as I chase after him, dodging the bullets ricocheting around me.
I push harder, my legs pumping as I close the gap between us. Christopher’s fast, but he’s not fast enough. Not tonight. Not with everything at stake.
“Christopher!” I shout, my voice echoing through the warehouse. He skids to a halt, turning just as I level my gun at him. His eyes widen in shock, fear flooding his face.
“It’s over,” I growl, my finger hovering over the trigger.
For a split second, everything seems to freeze. Christopher's chest heaves, his eyes darting wildly, and I can see the gears turning in his head. He knows. He knows there's no escape. Yet, instead of surrendering, he does the unthinkable.
In a desperate, reckless move, he raises his hand—his gun aimed directly at me. Instinct takes over. I don't even think. I fire three rounds in rapid succession. Each one finds its mark, dead center in his chest.
Fucker.
Christopher stumbles backward, the life draining from his face as he collapses to the cold concrete floor. His gun clatters next to him, the metallic sound echoing through the warehouse, final and absolute. For a brief moment, there’s silence, as if the whole world is holding its breath.
I kick the gun away from his limp hand, out of reach, just to be sure. My heart is pounding, but I push it aside, kneeling down to check for a pulse. My fingers press against his neck, but I already know the answer. There’s nothing. He’s gone.