Cora Whitaker had stitched up gunshot wounds before, but never on a man who had just put a bullet in someone else.

At 2:00 AM, the storm hit the estate.

Heavy thunder rolled across the valley, and rain lashed against the high glass windows of the mansion. The main power grid was suddenly cut, plunging the entire estate into pitch-black darkness.

Seconds later, emergency red backup lights flickered on, casting a blood-red glow over the long marble corridors.

Inside the reinforced tactical command room in the center of the mansion, Cora sat beside Tomas, monitoring the security feeds. Outside, night-vision cameras captured dozens of heavily armed men scaling the stone walls, cutting through the perimeter fences.

Marco Dresco had brought his entire private army—over forty heavily armed mercenaries—determined to slaughter Julian Voss inside his own home.

Julian stood near the reinforced exit, wearing a tactical vest over his black shirt, checking the magazine of a heavy automatic pistol. He looked majestic, lethal, and entirely in his element.

He walked over to Cora, kneeling down beside her chair.

He took her soft hands in his large, calloused ones. "Stay inside this room with Tomas. The steel doors are reinforced. Even rocket fire won't breach them."

"Julian... please be careful," Cora whispered, clutching his fingers tightly. "Don't die out there."

Julian brought her hands to his lips, pressing a slow, warm kiss against her knuckles.

"I spent ten years waiting to die, Cora," Julian murmured against her skin, his dark eyes shining with intense, undeniable love. "Then I met a stubborn nurse who threw my money back in my face and reminded me what it feels like to be alive. I am not dying tonight."

He stood up, pulled his weapon, and stepped out into the red-lit hallway, the heavy steel doors locking automatically behind him.

For the next hour, the mansion erupted into chaos.

Muffled explosions, heavy automatic gunfire, and breaking glass echoed through the ventilation shafts. Cora watched the security monitors in horror as Julian and his men moved through the house like ghosts, executing Dresco’s mercenaries with terrifying, military precision.

Julian was a force of nature. Moving through the smoke and shadows, his silenced weapon flashed rhythmically, taking down attackers before they even realized where the fire was coming from.

By 3:15 AM, the gunfire began to die down.

On the main courtyard security feed, Cora watched Marco Dresco—a bloated, ruthless man in a expensive leather coat—fleeing toward his escape SUV with his two remaining bodyguards.

Suddenly, a shot rang out, taking down one bodyguard. Julian stepped out from the pine trees, his dark coat billowing in the wind, his weapon raised.

Marco spun around, raising his hands in utter panic, begging for his life as Julian approached him slowly through the pouring rain.

Through the security camera audio feed, Cora heard Marco’s desperate pleas. "Julian! Please! We can share the docks! I'll pay you millions! Just name your price!"

Julian stopped five feet away from the terrified mob boss.

"My price was paid six months ago, Marco," Julian’s cold voice rang out through the storm. "When you decided to bring an innocent woman into our war."