The front doors rattled violently under the weight of their kicks. Your hands were shaking, the empty gun heavy and useless in your grip. You had already spent every bullet trying to hold them off. The smell of gunpowder still lingered in the air, mixing with the acrid scent of smoke and blood from somewhere deeper in the house.

One of them broke through — tall, broad, with eyes that glinted like a predator’s. You backed into the corner, the wall cold against your spine.

He raised his weapon, smirking. “End of the line, sweetheart.”

Your breath caught in my throat. The room seemed to shrink, the sound of your heartbeat drowning everything else. You had nowhere to run.

And then— A shadow moved behind him. No — not a shadow. Him.

Alexander.

He was just there, like he’d stepped out of the darkness itself. The gleam of his cufflinks caught the dim light, his eyes locked on the man in front of me with an icy calm that made my blood hum.

“Touch her…” His voice was low, lethal. “…and I’ll break your neck.”

The intruder froze — the kind of freeze that comes when instinct screams you’re in the presence of something far more dangerous.

Alexander didn’t blink. His hand was already on the man’s wrist, twisting with precise, bone-crushing force. The gun clattered to the marble floor.

And just like that, the balance shifted.