The entire restaurant went silent the moment I touched the enormous black dog sitting beside a stranger's table.

"Stay in this room," Dante ordered, his voice ringing with absolute authority as he drew a sleek, matte-black Glock from his shoulder holster.

"Dante, no—" I started, standing up.

"Elena, stay!" he shouted, turning back for a split second. His gray eyes blazed with fierce intensity. "Marcus, secure the panic room corridor. If anyone breaches the second floor, you put them down."

Without waiting for my reply, Dante turned and sprinted out of the library, his footsteps echoing down the grand hallway. Marcus lingered for a second, motioning urgently toward a reinforced steel door hidden behind a bookshelf.

"Miss Marshall, please! In here, now!" Marcus barked.

Suddenly, Orion stood up. The massive hound didn't run toward the panic room. Instead, his hackles raised, his upper lip curled back to reveal a set of razor-sharp white teeth, and he let out a spine-chilling bark that vibrated through the floorboards.

Before Marcus or I could react, the heavy double doors of the library splintered inward.

Two masked men in tactical gear burst through the doorway, assault rifles raised.

"Got the girl!" one of them shouted in a harsh, gravelly voice.

Marcus whipped his pistol up, squeezing off two rapid shots. The first intruder dropped instantly, tumbling backward into the hallway. But the second intruder swung his rifle toward Marcus, his finger tightening on the trigger.

I screamed.

In a blur of midnight-colored fur, Orion launched himself across the room. He hit the second intruder like a runaway freight train, knocking the heavy tactical rifle out of the man's hands and sending him crashing hard against a mahogany bookshelf.

The man shrieked as Orion's jaws clamped down on his protective tactical vest, shaking him like a rag doll before pinning him to the floor with terrifying weight.

Marcus rushed forward, slamming the butt of his pistol against the intruder's helmet, knocking him out cold in a single, brutal strike.

Chest heaving, Marcus looked down at the unconscious man, then over at Orion, who stood over the fallen attacker, letting out a low, vibrating growl.

"Good boy, Orion," Marcus muttered, wiping sweat from his forehead. He turned to me, his eyes wide. "Miss Marshall, we have to move. Now. Rossi's hit squad is deeper in the estate than we anticipated."

My hands were shaking uncontrollably, but a sudden surge of adrenaline cleared my mind. I looked at the fallen intruder, then toward the hallway where Dante had disappeared into the chaos of gunfire.

"No," I said, my voice surprisingly steady. "Dante is out there. I'm not hiding in a panic room while he's fighting for his life."

Marcus stared at me in shock, recognizing the stubborn glint in my eyes—the exact same fierce, unbreakable spirit that Dante possessed.