Chapter 11
The silence inside the panic room was more terrifying than the gunfire outside. Harper sat on the floor, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, violently shaking in the pitch black. Bane sat pressed firmly against her side, a solid, warm wall of muscle, radiating a comforting heat. Every few minutes, a muffled explosion from the floors above would send a fine layer of dust raining down on them.
She had no idea how much time had passed. An hour? Two? The air was growing stale. Her mind conjured horrific images of Silas bleeding out on the imported slate floors, alone.
Suddenly, a heavy, metallic clank echoed through the room. Someone was trying to open the door from the outside.
Harper scrambled backward, pressing herself into the farthest corner, her heart hammering wildly. She grabbed a heavy steel flashlight from the emergency supply kit, preparing to swing it at whoever breached the room. Bane stood up, placing himself squarely between Harper and the door, a low, murderous growl vibrating in his chest.
The locking mechanism spun. The heavy steel door groaned open, spilling harsh emergency light into the dark room.
A figure stepped through the threshold, covered in ash, drywall dust, and blood.
"Harper?" a rough, exhausted voice called out.
"Silas!" she screamed, dropping the flashlight and throwing herself across the room.
She slammed into his chest, wrapping her arms around his neck. Silas caught her, holding her so tightly she could barely breathe, burying his face in her hair. He was shaking. The untouchable warlord was trembling.
"Are you hurt?" she demanded, pulling back to frantically check his body for bullet wounds. His face was bruised, and a shallow cut bled freely over his eyebrow, but he seemed whole.
"I'm fine," he rasped, pressing his forehead against hers. "It's over. Vance got the reinforcements here. We wiped them out. Volkov’s men are dead."
Bane trotted over, pushing his large head against Silas’s thigh. Silas dropped to one knee, wrapping a heavy arm around the dog's neck. "Good boy," he whispered thickly. "You protected her. You did your job."
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"What happens now?" Harper asked, looking past Silas into the ruined basement hallway. The estate above them was a warzone, a shattered monument to Silas’s violent life.
"Now," Silas said, standing up and taking her hand, his eyes hardening with a terrifying resolve. "We disappear. The estate is compromised. Volkov knows where we live. We’re going to the safehouse. And then, I'm going to end the Russian syndicate permanently."
