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CHAPTER 7 - Baptism By Fire

Penulis: Lila Williams
last update Terakhir Diperbarui: 2025-11-04 03:14:27

The gunfire stopped.

Silence was somehow worse than the chaos. I pressed against the wall panel, trying to control my breathing, my heart hammering so violently I thought it might break through my ribs.

How long had I been in here? Minutes? Hours? Time distorted in the darkness.

Then I heard it. Boots on concrete. Multiple sets. Moving systematically through the clubhouse.

"Clear the back rooms. Find the girl."

The voice was unfamiliar. Cold. Professional.

Not Damien. Not his brothers.

My hands trembled as I fumbled for my phone, but I had left it on Damien's desk. Stupid. So incredibly stupid.

The footsteps grew closer. Someone was in the office now, boots crunching over broken glass. I held my breath, pressing deeper into the cramped space behind the wall.

"She was here. Blood trail leads this way." A pause. "Check for hidden doors. These MC rats always have bolt holes."

Panic seized my throat. I searched the darkness for another exit, finding nothing but solid walls on three sides
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    The compound descended into hell within minutes.Catherine's forces breached three entry points simultaneously. Professional. Coordinated. Overwhelming.Vera's security—twelve trained operatives—lasted four minutes. Then silence. Just gunfire. Screaming. Death moving closer."Safe room. Now." Damien pushed me toward the stairs. "Get Hope. I hold them here—""We go together—""I cannot run. Lung still collapsed. I slow you down. Get Hope out. I buy time. That is best option—""Best option is we survive together—"Explosion. Wall beside us disintegrated. Concrete. Dust. Fire. Someone threw grenades.Through the smoke—figures advancing. Tactical gear. Night vision. Moving like machines.Damien opened fire. Dropped three. Six more appeared. Too many. Always too many."GO!" He shoved me toward stairs. "Get our daughter!"I ran. Hating myself. Hating everything. But choosing Hope. Always Hope.Down. Three levels. Emergency lighting. Red. Ominous. Every shadow could hide death.Made it to sa

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    Damien survived surgery.Barely. ICU for eight days. Coma for three. When he woke—different. Harder. Colder."How long until I can fight?" First words. Not I love you. Not Is Hope safe. Just that."Weeks. Maybe months. Vera says—""Vera says a lot. Ask the doctor."Doctor said six weeks minimum. Damien said one week. Started physical therapy immediately. Against orders. Against logic. Against everything except desperation."You are going to kill yourself," I said. Watching him collapse after twenty pushups. Coughing blood. Trying again."Better than watching you die alone. Eight targets. One night. You need backup.""I need you alive. That matters more—""Nothing matters more than Hope. And Hope needs both parents. So I heal. Fast. Or I die trying."Stubborn. Stupid. Exactly like me.While Damien recovered—Vera dropped bombs."I lied," she said. Day ten. Morning briefing. "About timeline. About targets. About everything.""What?""There are not eight people coming for Hope. There are

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    Target number five was in New York.Manhattan. Crowded. Complicated. High risk.Her name was Natasha Volkov. Elena's sister. The family kept multiplying like cancer."She runs trafficking operation," Vera briefed us. "Children. Young girls. Sells them to highest bidders. Also wants you dead. Bonus—she has information on remaining targets. Kill her. Take her files. Accelerate the timeline."We arrived in New York on a Tuesday. Surveillance started immediately.Natasha was careful. Paranoid. Changed locations daily. Used body doubles. Professional security."This will take weeks," Damien said. Watching her convoy disappear into underground garage. "Maybe months.""We do not have months. Vera is dying faster than expected. Six months became four. Four became three." I checked my phone. Message from Vera's doctors. Updates I was not supposed to see. "We need to move fast. Take risks.""Risks get us killed—""Caution gets Hope killed. Choose."He chose. We both chose. Same answer. Always t

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    Training started at dawn.Vera's methods were brutal. Unforgiving. Designed to break us before rebuilding."You fight like amateurs," she said on day three. Watching Damien and me spar. "Reactive. Defensive. Survivors. I need you to be hunters."She demonstrated. Moved like liquid death. Seventy years old but faster than both of us. Struck pressure points. Dropped Damien in two seconds. Me in three."Again. This time—attack to kill. Not to defend. Kill."We trained eight hours daily. Hand-to-hand combat. Weapons. Strategy. Psychological warfare. Everything Marcus had known. Everything Vera had perfected.Hope watched sometimes. From behind reinforced glass. Safe. Protected. Learning."Should she see this?" I asked Vera after particularly brutal session. Blood on my face. Damien's arm dislocated."She should see everything. Understand everything. Know what we are. What she might become." Vera reset Damien's shoulder. He screamed. She did not flinch. "Innocence is luxury. Ashfords canno

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