The first shot shattered the night.
Glass burst across the upper floors of Volkov Tower like frozen rain.
Alarms screamed.
Red lights bled through the corridors.
For a second, the city itself seemed to flinch.
Then everything moved.
Inside the strategy room—
Dmitri's fingers flew across the control panel.
"East facade breach. Twenty hostiles confirmed. Possibly more on the roof."
Mikhail's lips curved into something sharp.
"Finally."
He grabbed a weapon from the wall rack with the kind of ease that made it look like an extension of his arm.
Nikola was already at the door.
"Three snipers across the adjacent building."
Yelena stood, smoothing invisible folds from her sleeve, calm as ice.
"Someone wants spectacle."
Roman's voice cut through the noise.
"Protect the core floor."
His eyes landed on Artyom.
The silence around that look said everything.
Artyom lifted his chin.
"I'm not hiding."
Roman's expression didn't shift.
"That wasn't a request."
Before Artyom could answer—
Viktor stepped between them.
"He stays with me."
The words landed like steel.
Roman's gaze darkened, but he didn't argue.
Not now.
Not with bullets already cutting through the glass.
Outside—
The snow glowed under neon signs and muzzle flashes.
Mercenaries advanced through the lobby, boots echoing against polished marble.
They moved like professionals.
Silent.
Precise.
Paid.
Upper floor—
Artyom followed Viktor into the corridor as security teams rushed past.
Gunfire cracked somewhere below.
The whole tower felt alive.
Breathing danger through its walls.
"Stay close," Viktor said.
Artyom glanced at him.
"You keep saying that."
"And you keep ignoring it."
A bullet struck the wall inches from Artyom's shoulder.
Concrete dust exploded.
Both of them moved instantly.
Viktor pulled Artyom behind the corner.
Too close.
Close enough for Artyom to feel Viktor's breath.
Close enough for Viktor's hand to remain firm on his wrist a moment too long.
"You were saying?" Viktor murmured.
Despite everything—
Artyom almost smiled.
Below—
Mikhail had already reached the intruders.
Chaos followed him like a second shadow.
A mercenary lunged.
Mikhail disarmed him in one movement.
Another came from the side.
Down.
A third.
Down.
The hallway became a storm of movement.
On the upper balcony, Yelena watched with cool amusement.
"Subtle as always."
Nikola appeared beside her, rifle steady.
"Three more approaching west stairwell."
A single shot rang out.
One body dropped.
Yelena tilted her head.
"Four now."
In the control room—
Dmitri's eyes narrowed at the surveillance feeds.
"This isn't random."
Valentin, standing beside Roman, looked at the screen.
A second group was moving.
Not toward Artyom.
Toward the data servers.
Roman's voice dropped.
"They want information."
Dmitri's expression sharpened.
"Not just information."
He zoomed in.
A symbol on one mercenary's sleeve.
A silver serpent.
Nikola's voice came through the comm.
"That mark…"
Roman's jaw tightened.
"Morozov."
Across the city—
On a rooftop buried in snowfall—
Andrei Morozov lowered the binoculars.
His expression remained unreadable.
One of his men glanced at him.
"Do we proceed?"
Andrei's pale eyes stayed fixed on the tower.
"No."
A pause.
"Watch."
Because this wasn't just an attack.
It was measurement.
He wanted to see how Artyom moved under pressure.
How Viktor reacted.
How Roman protected what mattered.
This was not war.
This was examination.
Back in the corridor—
Artyom heard footsteps.
Fast.
Multiple.
He turned.
Three armed men.
One aimed directly at Viktor.
Artyom didn't think.
He moved.
Fast enough to shove Viktor aside as the shot rang out.
Pain sliced across his arm.
Sharp.
Hot.
Silence hit for one terrifying second.
Then Viktor's eyes changed.
Dark.
Lethal.
Something almost feral.
The next moments blurred.
One man hit the wall.
Another went down.
The third never got the chance to fire.
When the hallway fell silent—
Viktor turned back.
His gaze landed on the blood staining Artyom's sleeve.
The air changed.
"Are you hurt?"
Artyom exhaled through the pain.
"It's not deep."
Viktor stepped closer.
Too close.
His voice dropped to something colder than the snow outside.
"They touched you."
The words didn't sound like concern.
They sounded like a death sentence.
For someone else.
Far below—
The last mercenaries began retreating.
This had never been about winning.
They had seen enough.
Collected enough.
The siege was ending.
But something far more dangerous had started.
As Viktor's fingers tightened around Artyom's wrist, checking the wound—
Both of them realized the same thing.
This attack wasn't for the bounty.
It was for the truth hidden inside Volkov Tower.
And now—
Someone had it.