The lights died in an instant.
Total, suffocating darkness engulfed the basement. Hazel's breath hitched, her pulse pounding loud in her ears. The faint stench of mildew mixed with gunpowder clung to the air.
"Michael!" she shouted.
No answer.
Gunshots cracked in the dark, brief flashes of light illuminating shapes — a fist, a face, the glint of a knife — before darkness swallowed it again.
Hazel's grip tightened around her gun as she backed toward the wall, trying to control her breathing. Every instinct screamed to run, but she forced herself to focus.
A voice slid from the shadows like a serpent.
"You're brave, little wife. I'll give you that."
Hazel spun toward the sound, firing once — the muzzle flash briefly revealing Liam Crowe's face twisted in a grin.
But he was gone again before the smoke cleared.
"Why don't we have a proper chat, you and me?" his voice teased from the other side of the room. "I've been watching you. Do you know what I see, Hazel Graze? A woman pretending she belongs in a world built by men."
Hazel's jaw clenched.
"I'm not pretending anymore."
She moved carefully, guided by the wall. Another gunshot rang out. Connor's voice barked orders over the comms, distorted and crackling.
Hazel rounded the corner of a pillar — and something heavy slammed into her, knocking the gun from her hand.
She hit the ground hard, the cold concrete stealing the breath from her lungs.
Rough hands grabbed her, hauling her up. A knife's cold edge pressed against her throat.
And then the emergency lights kicked in — a dim, sickly red glow bathing the room in shadows.
Liam Crowe's face was inches from hers.
Up close, he looked worse than the photos. Older, harsher, madness glittering in his eyes.
"Pretty," he murmured, trailing the flat of the blade along her jaw. "No wonder Michael's so soft on you. But softness gets men killed."
Hazel's stomach twisted, but she glared up at him.
"You should be more worried about me."
And then — a sharp crack. Liam staggered back, clutching his face.
Hazel's fist ached, but adrenaline numbed the pain.
Michael was there in an instant, slamming into Liam and sending him sprawling. Blood streamed from Liam's nose, but he laughed even as Michael pinned him.
"Took you long enough, kid."
"You should've stayed dead," Michael growled, fist connecting with Liam's face again and again.
Connor rushed in, gun raised. "We've secured the building. The others are down."
Michael hesitated, blood splattered across his face, breathing hard.
Hazel stepped beside him, her voice steady.
"End this."
Michael looked at her — and something in his gaze softened. Not pity. Not hesitation. Partnership.
He raised the gun.
But Liam's grin never faded.
"This won't save you, boy. I planted a gift of my own. Graze Tower… it's already set."
Hazel's blood turned to ice.
"What did you do?" she whispered.
Liam chuckled. "Tick, tick, Mrs. Graze."
And then — the room trembled...