Valarie’s POV

Pain.

A dull, throbbing ache spread through her skull as she blinked her eyes open, the dim, flickering light above her making her wince. The cold bite of metal around her wrists sent a shiver down her spine, and as the fog in her mind cleared, the reality hit her like a freight train.

She was tied up.

Elijah was beside her. Bruised. Bloody. Barely conscious.

A sharp breath left her lips as she turned to him.

"Elijah?" Her voice was hoarse, raw with exhaustion and anger.

He stirred at the sound of her voice, his swollen eyes fluttering open. For a moment, he didn’t say anything—just looked at her. And then, he laughed. A breathless, broken chuckle that made something twist in her chest.

"Of course," he murmured. "Of course, you'd be here."

Valarie clenched her jaw. "I'm getting us out."

He gave her a tired, pained look. "Val, you should've never come."

"Shut up."

"You—"

"I said shut up, Elijah." Her voice trembled, but not from fear. From rage. From the helplessness she felt seeing him like this.

His face had deep bruises, a cut on his lip still fresh with blood. His shirt was torn, his wrists raw from the same chains that bound her.

And she had let this happen.

Her throat tightened, but she forced the emotion down. Now wasn't the time.

"You shouldn't have come for me," Elijah muttered, his head falling back against the wall. "Mikhail—he’s not playing games anymore. He wants to end this. And you, Valarie, you were always too—"

"Too stubborn?" She huffed out a humorless laugh. "Yeah, I know."

He turned his head, looking at her with something softer. "Too good."

Valarie felt her fingers twitch. Too good?

She wanted to laugh. Good people didn’t do what she did.

Good people didn’t carve through criminals like a storm, using the law only when it was convenient.

And right now?

Right now, she was done playing by the rules.

Her fingers twisted, working the small hidden blade she had secured in her sleeve before Mikhail’s men captured her. They hadn’t checked properly. Amateurs.

A soft click.

The blade sliced through her binds.

Elijah’s breath hitched.

"Val—"

She moved.

Like lightning.

The first guard didn’t even have a chance to react before she buried the blade in his throat.

Then chaos erupted.

Valarie was a storm. A wild, unstoppable force of rage and precision.

She grabbed the fallen guard’s gun, whirling and shooting another straight between the eyes.

Men yelled. Rushed forward.

But she was faster.

A kick to the gut. A twist of the wrist. A knife slashing through flesh.

Mikhail’s men screamed.

And Valarie smiled.

"You idiots really thought you could keep me in chains?" Her voice was laced with pure, venomous amusement as she cut Elijah free.

More men were coming.

Good.

She was just getting started.

******* Sebastian’s POV

The moment he arrived, he saw her.

His Valarie.

Fighting. Bleeding. Destroying.

And he had never seen anything so beautiful.

She moved like a storm, swift and merciless, her body drenched in blood—not hers, but the filth that dared to lay hands on her. Each strike was precise, each bullet she fired landed true, and fuck—

Sebastian exhaled sharply, watching her from the shadows, utterly entranced.

His fingers twitched around the trigger of his gun, but he didn’t move yet.

He wanted to watch.

Watch how her body twisted with deadly grace, how her hair clung to her sweat-slicked skin, how her eyes burned with fury.

Then—one of those bastards grabbed her wrist.

Unforgivable.

Sebastian moved.

The gunshot cracked through the air before anyone saw him coming. The man clutching her dropped instantly, a clean bullet through his skull.

Valarie froze for half a second, her sharp gaze snapping to him.

Sebastian grinned.

"Miss me, beautiful?"

Her lips parted, but before she could curse him out, another enemy lunged for her.

She dodged—Sebastian fired.

Another kill.

Another body fell at her feet.

Valarie glared at him. "I had that."

Sebastian smirked, reloading effortlessly. "I know. But you look too pretty when you're pissed."

She scoffed and kept fighting, but he saw it—the way her body instinctively matched his movements.

He moved, she followed.

She struck, he covered.

Like a perfect, bloody dance.

And God, he had never wanted someone so much.

She was vicious. Beautiful. Bloody.

His.

Another man tried to run.

Sebastian threw his knife—straight into the bastard’s spine.

Valarie raised an eyebrow. "Show-off."

Sebastian chuckled, stepping over the corpse. "Oh, you love it."

Valarie rolled her eyes and shot two more men without blinking.

Sebastian laughed.

A low, dark, completely unhinged sound.

Because this—this was perfection.

His Valarie, bathed in blood, ruthless and relentless.

And she still didn’t realize how deeply obsessed he was with her.

Not yet.

******

Blood.

So much blood.

And she was covered in it.

Valarie fought beside him, their movements so synchronized it was unnatural. He moved left, she moved right. He shot, she sliced. He covered her, she finished the kill.

It was flawless.

It was intoxicating.

They had already slaughtered nearly a hundred men, but the bastards kept coming, and God, he could do this forever.

Watching her—moving with her—owning the battlefield with her.

But then—she ruined it.

"I need to find Mikhail and Elijah."

Sebastian froze.

The name Elijah tasted like acid in his mouth.

Elijah.

The only person Valarie had ever put above herself. The one she was bleeding for, fighting for, risking her damn life for.

His vision reddened.

"You’re wasting time," he said coldly, gripping her wrist. "We need to get out of here."

Valarie yanked away. "Not without Elijah."

Sebastian’s teeth gritted.

He should have known. Of course, she'd risk everything for another man. Of course, she'd ignore the fact that he was right here, killing for her, bleeding for her.

The way she said his name—Elijah.

She had never said Sebastian’s name like that.

It made him want to destroy something.

His hands clenched into fists. He had to fight the insane urge to grab her, lock her away, and force her to say his name just once the way she said that bastard’s.

He took a slow breath. Calm. Stay calm.

But his voice came out sharp. "Forget him. He’s probably dead."

Valarie snapped her gaze to him, furious. "He’s not. And I’m not leaving without him."

Sebastian laughed.

Dark. Twisted. Possessive.

"Funny," he murmured, stepping closer, crowding her. "I thought I was the only one allowed to be obsessed with you."

Valarie shoved him. "Get out of my way, Vasiliev."

Sebastian caught her wrist too fast, too tight.

His lips brushed her ear, voice lethal.

"You’re really testing my patience, officer."

Valarie didn't back down. "So arrest me."

Sebastian smirked. Oh, she had no idea.

Arrest her?

No.

He was going to own her.

But fine. She wanted Elijah?

Let’s see if she still wanted him when Sebastian painted the walls with his blood.