Upstairs, Scarlett stumbled back, breath ragged, as the intruder slammed a chair across the lab console. Sparks flared, blue light scattering across the room.
"Stop!" she shouted, clutching the encrypted tablet to her chest. This wasn't just data; it was Nicolas's work. His new weapon blueprints. She knew how important they were to him. She couldn't let this man take them. "You'll destroy it!"
"That's the point," the man hissed. His voice was sharp, deliberate. "Your genius boss keeps the real weapon designs locked here. I just need one file, girl."
Scarlett's heart pounded in her ears. The sound of rain had faded, replaced by the hum of chaos. Nicolas. He was coming. But she had to hold out long enough.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she lied, stepping backward.
The man lunged, charging straight at her. Scarlett dodged sideways, adrenaline making her fast. As he stumbled past, she kicked out, her heel connecting hard with his nose.
He cursed, blood smearing under his mask. He was furious. "You'll regret that."
As he stumbled, his hand shot out and grabbed her ankles. Scarlett cried out as she fell hard. The tablet skidded across the floor.
Before she could move, he was on her. "You think you're tough?" he snarled, grabbing the front of her blouse.
"Give me the blueprints!"
He yanked the fabric violently, tearing it further. A button popped, exposing her skin.
Scarlett froze, a wave of profound terror washing over her. He wasn't just after the tablet; he was trying to break her, to disarm her with fear. She felt utterly vulnerable, small, and exposed.
The sound of the elevator opening cut through the chaos.
The intruder froze — just for a second.
And that was all Nicolas needed.
He saw the torn fabric, her terrified face, the man looming over her. A primal roar tore from his throat, an unbridled fury unlike anything Scarlett had ever heard from him.
He moved like a storm. One swift strike disarmed the intruder's knife; the next pinned him to the ground with brutal force. Before he even secured the man, Nicolas shrugged off his own tailored jacket and, with a swift, almost violent tenderness, draped it over Scarlett's trembling shoulders, covering the torn blouse.
Scarlett gasped for air, still clutching her wrist, her body shaking uncontrollably. Nicolas's fury ignited the room.
Matteo appeared seconds later, gun drawn. "Sir, second breach confirmed near the west entrance," he said breathlessly.
"Lock it down," Nicolas snapped. His voice was low, lethal. "No one gets in or out without my command."
The intruder tried to reach for his belt, but Nicolas pressed a knee into his chest, forcing him still. "Who sent you?"
The man only laughed. "You think you're untouchable, Volkov? You and your Greek friend won't last. The others are already moving."
Scarlett's stomach twisted. Others?
Before Nicolas could reply, the man bit down on something hidden in his glove. A faint hiss escaped — and within seconds, he went limp.
"Cyanide," Matteo muttered, eyes wide.
Nicolas stood slowly, staring down at the body. His jaw was tight. "They're not after the designs," he said, voice dangerously calm. "They're after the people who can make them."
His gaze flicked to Scarlett — still pale, shaken, wrapped in his jacket, the tablet clutched against her chest. He took a step toward her, eyes softening for the briefest moment.
"You're safe now," he said quietly. But there was an edge beneath the calm.
Scarlett swallowed hard. "He said… others are moving. What does that mean?"
Nicolas looked at the dead intruder, then at Matteo. "It means this wasn't a warning," he said coldly. "It's the beginning."
The thunder outside cracked loud and long, echoing through the estate like a promise of war.
And as Scarlett looked at him — this man who moments ago had been all cold precision, now standing between her and the darkness — she realized something terrifying:
Whatever battle was coming, it wasn't just his anymore.