Gunfire thundered through the mansion.
Smoke spread across the halls like a living thing, swallowing light and sound.
In the middle of chaos, Aryan Malhotra grabbed Anaya Sen's hand—tight, certain.
"Can you move?" he asked, voice low, steady.
Anaya nodded, even though her legs still felt weak.
"I can."
"Good," he said. "Then don't let go."
A burst of bullets cracked across the staircase behind them.
Aryan didn't look back.
He pulled her into a side corridor, moving fast, precise—every turn already mapped in his head.
Behind them, Nikolai Volkov covered their exit, gun raised, eyes sharp.
"Go!" Nikolai shouted. "I'll slow them down!"
Aryan paused for half a second.
Just enough to decide.
Then he nodded once.
"Don't die."
Nikolai smirked faintly. "Not tonight."
Another explosion shook the building.
BOOM!
Dust fell from the ceiling as alarms screamed louder.
Anaya stumbled slightly.
Aryan caught her instantly, pulling her closer against him.
"Stay with me," he said near her ear.
"I'm trying…" she whispered, breath uneven.
They reached a hidden panel at the end of the corridor.
Aryan pressed his palm against it.
Click.
A narrow passage opened.
Dark.
Silent.
Safe—for now.
He pulled her inside, the panel sliding shut behind them, cutting off the chaos.
For a moment, there was only darkness.
And the sound of their breathing.
Anaya leaned against the wall, eyes closed, trying to steady herself.
Aryan stood in front of her, watching.
Always watching.
"You remembered the location," he said quietly.
Anaya opened her eyes slowly.
"The church…" she whispered. "It keeps coming back."
Aryan stepped closer.
"How sure are you?"
Her gaze met his.
"Enough to risk everything."
Silence stretched between them.
Heavy.
Real.
Then Aryan made his decision.
"We're going."
Anaya blinked.
"Now?"
He nodded.
"Before Viktor gets there first."
Her heart tightened at the name of Viktor Dragovich.
"He'll follow us," she said softly.
Aryan's expression didn't change.
"Let him."
Something in his tone made her breath catch.
Dangerous.
Unafraid.
He reached out and gently held her arm.
This time—not controlling.
Not forcing.
Just… grounding.
"You stay with me," he said.
"And no one touches you."
Anaya looked at him.
Really looked.
Through the anger.
Through the cold mask.
To the truth underneath.
"You can't protect me from everything," she whispered.
Aryan's gaze darkened slightly.
"Watch me."
The words weren't loud.
But they carried weight.
Promise.
Possession.
Something deeper than both.
For a second, neither of them moved.
The narrow passage felt smaller.
Closer.
Their breaths mixing in the quiet.
Anaya's voice dropped.
"You almost lost me today."
Aryan's jaw tightened.
"I didn't."
"But you could have."
That truth hit harder.
His hand shifted slightly, pulling her just a little closer.
"Then I'll make sure it never happens again."
Her heartbeat quickened.
"And if it does?"
Aryan leaned in just enough for his voice to brush against her skin.
"It won't."
The certainty in his tone left no space for doubt.
Or fear.
Or escape.
Anaya's fingers slowly tightened around his shirt.
"I'm not as strong as you think," she admitted softly.
Aryan's eyes softened—for just a second.
"Good."
She frowned slightly.
"What?"
His thumb brushed lightly against her wrist.
"Because then you'll stay close to me."
The words should have sounded controlling.
But they didn't.
Not now.
Not like this.
Before she could respond—
A distant explosion echoed again.
Even inside the hidden passage.
BOOM!
Aryan's expression snapped back into focus.
"We move," he said.
He took her hand again.
Firm.
Unbreakable.
And together—
They ran through the darkness.
Toward the only place that held the truth.
The old church.
Where everything had started.
And where this war…
Would finally begin to end.