Elena’s POV

The footsteps that had just entered the warehouse still echoed when the second set arrived.

These were different.

Not the measured, deliberate weight of Victor Carter. These were controlled, purposeful, carrying the kind of quiet force that made the air itself feel thinner.

Everyone turned.

Nikolai stood in the doorway.

He held a gun low at his side, the barrel steady, his face carved into something I had never seen before,stillness so complete it felt like a blade. His eyes locked on his father and did not move. The silver light from the high window cut across his cheekbones, and for one fractured second I thought the ground...