The door exploded inward, shards of wood flying as the first wave of Langston's men stormed in.
Isabella was already in motion.
She dove behind the kitchen island as bullets tore through the furniture. Gunfire erupted, deafening in the confined space.
Alexander pulled her down beside him, his pistol already drawn. "We're outnumbered."
She smirked, adrenaline surging. "When has that ever stopped us?"
Damian killed the lights with a single keystroke. The safe house plunged into darkness, save for the flickering glow of city lights bleeding through the blinds.
"Night vision," Claire whispered over the comms. "We have the advantage."
Isabella gripped her gun tighter. Time to even the odds.
The first mercenary moved fast but Isabella was faster. She grabbed a knife from the counter and sliced through the tendons in his wrist, disarming him in a single motion.
Alexander fired two clean shots, dropping another before he could react.
More men flooded in.
Claire and Damian covered the rear, sending bullets and smoke grenades into the chaos.
The room erupted into war.
Through the haze of smoke and flashing muzzle fire, Isabella spotted something—a figure standing at the doorway, watching.
Langston.
He wasn't just sending men.
He had come to watch them burn.
Rage flared in Isabella's chest. She didn't hesitate she bolted toward him.
Alexander's voice rang out behind her. "Isabella, wait"
But she was already too far gone.
This wasn't just survival anymore.
This was personal.