Chapter 61 The Siege

• The air was thick with smoke, the metallic tang of blood already bleeding into the corridors as Damien dragged Ivy down the narrow passage toward the vault. Her breath came in ragged bursts, her heels scraping against the stone as the ground trembled beneath another explosion. The safehouse—her supposed sanctuary—was unraveling, piece by piece, collapsing under the weight of the storm that had finally found them.
• The hidden corridor was lit only by the dim glow of recessed lamps. Every flicker seemed to mock the panic clawing at her chest. Behind them, shouts echoed, followed by gunfire—short, violent bursts that cracked like thunder. Ivy stumbled but Damien’s grip on her arm was iron, his pace relentless, as though sheer determination could outrun the chaos.
• “You’re hurting me,” she hissed, her voice sharp, but she didn’t try to wrench away. Not when she could feel the vibrations of boots pounding overhead. Not when the scent of gunpowder filled her lungs like poison.