Chapter 20 - Roman

I lead the charge, kicking down the door with a force that echoes in the stillness. The warehouse is dimly lit, a cavernous space filled with crates and debris. My instincts are heightened and alert for any sign of danger.

As we fan out, I scan the area, praying I’ll find Gwen safe. As a group, we trail down every hallway, cautiously perusing every single room. And then, as we head up a set of stairs, we see a light at the end of the hallway. Quietly, carefully, just as we did with the ambush days ago, my brothers and I advance slowly until we reach the door, which stands slightly ajar.

Right away, I see him—Luther lingering near the back, hands clasped protectively over his groin. In front of him sits two women—Riley and my wife—with their hands tied. A smile tugs at my lips despite the chaos. Good girl. I can’t help but feel a surge of pride in her bravery.

But my satisfaction is short-lived. The moment my brothers and I burst through the door and aimed our weapons at Luther, multiple figures emerged from the shadows. My blood runs cold. Amongst them, I also recognize Lincoln Winchester, who we recently discovered to be the leader of the Vultures. He walks closer, a predatory smile on his lips, and I feel the weight of the moment settle around me.

“The Milovs, as I live and breathe,” he drawls in a Southern accent, his voice dripping with mockery. “Did you really think you could just walk in here and take what’s mine?”

“Let them go,” I growl, my voice low and dangerous as I steady my aim on him. My focus narrows to Gwen, who’s still tied up but seems to be recovering her composure.

“You think I’d let you have her that easily?” he retorts, stepping closer to Gwen and Riley. Panic surges through me, and my grip on the gun tightens. I can’t let him reach her.

In a split second, gunfire erupts, chaos descending upon us as my men spring into action, returning fire. My brothers and I take multiple men down, then duck for cover, reloading our firearms before resurfacing and taking out more. The air is thick with the acrid smell of gunpowder and the sound of bullets ricocheting off metal. I duck behind a crate, trying to keep my head in the game while my heart races at the thought of Gwen being in the line of fire.

I catch a glimpse of her as she works on freeing her hands from the rope that binds her. She’s so strong, fighting through the panic and the fear, and I feel a swell of admiration. I’m proud of her for not giving in.

But just as I’m about to make my move, Lincoln lunges for her, and my blood runs cold. No! I push through the chaos, dodging incoming fire, determined to reach her before he can do any harm.

“Gwen!” I shout, desperation clawing at my throat.

The standoff intensifies as we exchange shots, my focus unwavering. I’m almost there, nearly at her side, when I’m suddenly held at gunpoint by the Vulture leader. His smirk is infuriating as he raises the weapon, and for a moment, time freezes.

“Don’t move, or she dies,” Lincoln sneers, his eyes glinting with malice.

I know this moment is full of risk, but I won’t let fear dictate my actions. As I try to think of a way out, I feel Gwen’s presence behind me, her spirit unyielding even in captivity. I won’t let this man win.

And then, to my shock, she springs into action, a fierce determination in her eyes. I watch, astonished, as she reaches for something—anything—to defend herself.

“Roman, get down!” she shouts, and before I can react, she lunges toward the man holding me at gunpoint.

Her bravery stuns me, and as she tackles him, our eyes lock for an instant. At that moment, I realized how deeply I love her and how willing she is to risk everything for me.

The struggle is fierce, and with a sudden burst of strength, she overpowers him, her hands finding the weapon as I hear the crack of a shot. I can barely process what’s happening; my heart races as I see her pull the trigger.

He crumples to the ground, lifeless, and I feel an overwhelming mix of pride and fear. But before I can rush to her, I see the strain of the moment take its toll. She sways on her feet, a look of shock crossing her face.

“Gwen!” I yell, instinctively reaching for her just as she collapses to the floor.