I reached out, my fingers scraping the floor until they found my phone and the fallen ledger.

I dragged them close to my chest, curling into a tight ball as the floor vibrated beneath me.

The gunfire from the driveway suddenly stopped, replaced by the squeal of burning rubber.

The car sped away, the sound of its engine fading into the distant rain.

Silence settled over the room, broken only by the crunch of shifting glass and my own ragged breathing.

“Maeve,” Declan barked, his voice rough with adrenaline. “You hit?”

I shook my head, tasting plaster dust on my lips.

“No,” I coughed, pushing myself up to my elbows.

Declan stood, his face pale beneath the dirt and sweat.

He looked toward the shattered window, his chest heaving under his torn jacket.

Heavy footsteps pounded down the hallway outside.

The library doors banged open, and three armed guards rushed in with their weapons drawn.

Behind them stood Roman Vescari.

Roman’s coat was dry, but his eyes were cold as winter.

He scanned the ruined room, his gaze stopping on me.

“Report,” Roman said, his voice remarkably calm.