Vincent's POV
The night air bit into my face as I stepped onto the tarmac. The jet's engines were still cooling, hissing like wounded beasts in the dark. I didn't wait for Adriel to catch up. I didn't need him to tell me the clock was running out. Every second Blossom remained in Rion's hands was a second too long.
The image of her—bloodied, chained, her spirit barely flickering behind haunted eyes—had burned into my skull the moment I saw the footage.
I'd kill him.
No. I'd bury his entire legacy. Slowly. Thoughtfully.
I got in the waiting car without a word. Adriel slid in next to me, silent as usual. The driver knew better than to ask questions. The city passed us in blurs of silver and black.
"The base Rion's holding her in is off the grid," Adriel said. "But we tracked movement from one of their lower ports. Smuggling routes that weren't shut down in the last raid."
I didn't respond.
"He's taunting you. He knew you'd see the video. He wanted you to."
"And now he gets what he asked for."
Adriel gave a small nod, his jaw tense. He wasn't worried for me. He was worried for what I'd become when I got to Rion.
---
The warehouse was four stories of rust and lies. From the outside, it looked like just another graveyard for forgotten shipments. Inside, it was hell dressed in steel.
We went in through the tunnels. Rion was smart—he booby-trapped the front entrances. Not for us. For everyone. For the world.
Adriel and two of my men cleared the eastern wing while I moved west. My Glock was warm in my grip. A heartbeat away from purpose.
I moved like silence. Clean. Fast. Deadly.
A guard rounded the corner. He didn't see me in time. I took him down with a precise hit to the throat. No time for mess. No room for mercy.
---
Then I heard it.
Her scream.
It was distant. Echoed through layers of iron and concrete. But it was hers.
The sound didn't break me.
It focused me.
---
Adriel caught up just as I breached the central chamber. Three guards down. Riley nowhere in sight.
But Rion?
He was there.
So was Blossom.
She was on the floor, curled, chained at the ankles. Her dress torn, blood at her lip. But her eyes... they saw me.
They saw me.
"Took you long enough," Rion drawled, standing at the far side, like he wasn't drenched in sin.
I didn't answer.
I lifted my gun.
"Put it down, Vincent. Or the next video I send you won't just be a warning."
My eyes flicked to Blossom. Her lips trembled.
"You want her back?" Rion said. "Trade. You for her."
I almost laughed. Almost.
"You can't kill me. And you won't hurt her again. Because if you do, Rion... there's no coming back. Not even the ashes will know your name."
His smirk faltered.
Adriel moved first.
Gunfire broke out. I moved like breath and thunder. Two bullets dropped Rion's men. One grazed my shoulder. I didn't feel it.
Rion ran.
I ran faster.
He bolted through the west corridor. I tackled him before he could reach the exit. We crashed into the wall, fists flying. There was no elegance in the fight—just rage.
I broke his nose.
He pulled a knife.
He cut me.
I didn't stop.
I slammed his head into the ground. Once. Twice. Until he stopped moving.
Until there was nothing left in his eyes.
---
I returned to her side, blood on my hands, adrenaline blurring the world.
"Blossom," I said, kneeling.
Her breath was shallow. But she was there.
"I came for you."
She blinked, and a single tear slipped down her cheek.
"You're late," she rasped.
I smiled. Just a ghost of one. "I brought fire."
Adriel broke the chains.
I carried her out.
And the building behind us? It burned.
---
Rion's POV
There were very few things in this world that could make Rion Wilder truly furious—truly, irrevocably unhinged. Watching one of his men run toward him, panting like a bloodhound with news carved into his eyes, turned that slow, simmering irritation into something molten.
"He's here."
The words were simple. Almost benign. But they ripped through Rion's skull like a bullet.
He stood from his leather seat, tossing aside the glass of wine he hadn't even tasted. It shattered against the marble floor of the surveillance room, a crimson splash bleeding across white tile.
"Where?"
"South wing. He broke the east gate with an armored car. No casualties yet—"
"Yet?" Rion echoed, slow, incredulous. "So you're waiting for him to rack up a body count before you do something about it?"
The man stiffened, eyes wide. Rion took a long step forward.
"Mobilize the third unit. Reinforce the vault. If he makes it past that hallway, I'll make you eat your tongue."
He turned, barking orders into his comm. The entire base came alive, red lights pulsing through corridors like arteries under threat. Walls groaned with motion sensors, men spilled out of hidden doors. Gunfire echoed faintly in the distance.
Vincent.
Of course it was him. No subtlety, no finesse. Just brute violence.
Rion moved to the central surveillance table and dragged a finger across the holographic interface. Cameras blinked into focus. Vincent's men were holding formation. Tactical. Sharp.
But Vincent?
He walked like a demon through the fire. Bulletproof. Inhuman.
And it made Rion grind his teeth.
"You let him get this close," he muttered under his breath.
This wasn't about a business war anymore. Not arms, not territory.
It was about Blossom.
And Rion would rather burn this entire building to the ground than let her get taken back by the man who stole everything from him.
He punched in a secure code and opened the underground gate to the west exit.
"Block him off. Flush him into the lower floor. If he wants a war, we'll give him one."
Another tech entered the room, flustered. "Sir. The inner perimeter is breaking. They're moving with surgical precision. It's only a matter of time."
"Then we'll make sure time bleeds," Rion hissed.
He watched the monitor for a moment longer. Vincent was almost at the inner sanctum. The guards stationed there wouldn't be enough.
No matter. Let them slow him down.
Then Rion pressed a button on the wall and spoke into the comm: "Bring her to me. Now."
If Vincent wanted a war, he'd end up watching the cost with his own eyes.