Chapter 15 - The Rescue
Surrounding the warehouse were dozens of black SUVs. Hundreds of armed men. Damian hadn't waited for a phone call. He had tracked them.
Before Volkov could shout an order, the reinforced steel doors of the warehouse blew inward with a deafening explosion. Smoke and fire filled the cavernous space.
Damian’s tactical team breached the building with military precision. Gunfire erupted, lighting up the dark warehouse. Volkov’s men were decimated in seconds, completely overwhelmed by the sheer, brutal force of Blackwood’s wrath.
Volkov panicked. He grabbed Harper by the hair, pulling a gun to her head, dragging her toward a back exit.
“Back off!” Volkov screamed as Damian emerged from the smoke, his face splattered with blood, his eyes locked onto Harper. “I’ll blow her brains out!”
Damian didn't stop walking. He didn't raise his hands. He raised his gun.
“You’re a dead man, Alexei,” Damian said, his voice cutting through the gunfire.
“Drop the gun, or she dies!”
Harper didn't wait to be a victim. Relying on her bad knee, she dropped her dead weight entirely, twisting her body downward. The sudden movement threw Volkov off balance just enough for his gun to waver.
Damian fired. A single, perfect shot.
The bullet pierced exactly between Volkov’s eyes. The Russian mobster dropped to the floor, dead before he hit the concrete.
Damian was across the room in a second. He dropped his weapon, falling to his knees and ripping the zip ties off Harper’s wrists with a tactical knife. He pulled her into his chest, burying his face in her neck, his massive frame shaking.
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“I’ve got you,” he chanted, kissing her bruised face, her hair, her lips. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
Harper clung to him, sobbing into his coat. He had come for her. The monster had torn down the world to save her.
