Alpha stood on stage, frozen in shock.

He turned to the wings. "Guards! I need help!"

But there was no one there.

Outside the hall, his guards had already been taken out.

Hazard King had taken care of them on the way in, quietly and efficiently.

The only armed people left in the building were the guests’ bodyguards—about twenty in total.

They were spread out and disorganized, each loyal to different bosses—not a united group. Not much of a threat.

Hazard King moved forward slowly and with purpose.

His team fanned out, watching every exit and every possible angle.

The thirteen female operatives on stage immediately dropped to the floor, covering their heads, just like they had been trained.

For now, they were safe.

Panic spread among the guests, who started to scream, cry, and beg for mercy. Some even tried to make a run for it.

Hazard King’s men blocked the exits.

"I said nobody moves," Hazard King repeated.

He fired again, shooting into the wall next to a guest who was running away. The man froze and dropped to his knees, raising his hands in surrender.

Hazard King stepped onto the stage, rifle aimed at Alpha.

Alpha backed up, hands up in a sign of submission. "Wait! We can talk this out! Whatever you want, money? I’ve got money. Connections? I can offer you—"

"I don’t want your money," Hazard King interrupted.

"Then what’s next? What do you want?" Alpha asked.

Hazard King tilted his head.

"Justice."

He pulled the trigger.

The bullet hit Alpha’s shoulder, not a killer shot, but definitely painful.

Alpha yelled and fell back, clutching his shoulder as blood spilled out between his fingers.

Maksim went for the weapon that Alpha dropped.

Hazard King turned and shot.

The bullet hit Maksim’s hand, breaking his bones.

Maksim’s weapon clattered away as he collapsed, screaming and holding his messed-up hand.

Alexander just stood there, hands up, not moving.

Smart move.

Hazard King’s voice came through the mask. "Alexander Kane, step away from them."

Alexander did as he was told, moving slowly to the edge of the stage.

Hazard King nodded. "Nice."

He then turned back to Alpha and Maksim, both on the floor, bleeding out and done for.

"This is it," Hazard King said.

*****

Azalea was glued to the monitors.

She saw the hijacking of the broadcast go down successfully.

She watched the Hazard King team break into the spot.

She took in the gunfight that unfolded.

And she couldn’t take her eyes off her brother, her twin, moving through a war zone like it was no big deal.

But what really got to her was his shirt.

It was dark and soaked.

Covered in blood on his right side.

The injury from the Maksim penthouse.

The one Kade had patched up just hours ago.

It was still bleeding.

And it looked worse now.

"No," Azalea murmured.

Aylin noticed it too, her hand flying up to cover her mouth. "He’s hurt. Zayden is bleeding—"

"I’m going," Azalea said firmly.

She got up, reaching for her gun from the hidden spot under her seat.

She checked the magazine: fifteen rounds, one already in the chamber.

Aylin grabbed her arm. "Azalea, it’s under control. The Hazard King team has it—"

"He’s bleeding out," Azalea said flatly. "I can’t just sit here while my brother—"

She didn’t finish her thought.

Instead, she kicked open the door and stepped out into the night.

The auction hall was just ahead, with bright lights blazing and smoke spilling out from the broken entrance.

Azalea took off running, pistol in hand, her boots thumping against the pavement.

When she got to the entrance, she stepped over the broken wood and the bodies of Alpha guards, all dead.

The shots were precise—clean headshots. Whoever did this knew exactly what they were doing.

She made her way down the hallway, following the sounds of voices until she got to the main auction room.

What she found was pure chaos.

Seventy-three guests were down on their knees, hands zip-tied behind them, sobbing and begging for their lives.

The Hazard King team was on guard, rifles at the ready.

On the stage, Alpha and Maksim lay injured, unable to move.

And towering over them was Zayden.

He still had on his black mask, gripping his rifle, standing strong.

But his shirt, Azalea’s heart dropped.

The right side was completely soaked in dark red. Blood had trickled down to his belt and dripped onto the stage floor.

How was he still on his feet?

How was he still in the game?

Azalea dashed forward.

Kade saw her and started to lift his weapon.

Then he realized who it was and put it down.

Azalea kept going, running straight to the stage and climbing up.

Zayden heard footsteps, turned around, and raised his rifle,

But then he saw her.

He lowered the gun.

"Zaria. What are you doing here?"

His voice was steady and strong, but she could see the strain and pain he was trying to hide.

"What do you mean—" Azalea grabbed his arm and felt the fabric; it was damp and sticky. "You’re bleeding everywhere!"

"I know," Zayden said calmly.

"You need to go. Get to a hospital. Now."

"Not yet."

"Z—"

"Not. Yet." His tone was firm. "Not until this is over."

Azalea looked at Alpha and Maksim lying on the ground, both hurt but alive.

"They’re down," she said. "You got them. It’s finished. Let me and the team handle the cleanup. You need medical attention."

Zayden shook his head. "Not until they’re dead."

"They’re not going anywhere. We’ve got them cornered. Every exit is blocked, and every crime is exposed. They’re done for."

"I need to finish this."

"You’re being stubborn—"

"I’m being thorough," Zayden cut in. He looked at her, and even through the mask, she could see his eyes, clear, focused, determined. "This ends tonight. Right here. With me. I don’t trust anyone else to wrap it up."

Azalea wanted to argue.

She wanted to drag him out of there by force if she had to.

But she recognized that look; she had seen it before. And it scared her.