In front of seventy employees, my mafia boss's jealous fiancée grabbed my hair and cut off the braid I'd grown for years to honor my dead grandmother.

The heavy steel door slammed back against the bulkhead with a deafening crash, echoing like a gunshot inside the confined space of the ship’s primary bridge.

Julian spun around so fast his chair skidded across the metal grating, his face draining of all color as he stared down the barrel of my carbine. Beside the navigation console, Bianca let out a piercing, hysterical shriek, stumbling backward until her spine hit the reinforced glass of the bridge window.

"You?!" Bianca gasped, her eyes wide with sheer disbelief as she stared at me through my gas mask. "How the hell did you get past the deck guards? You're just a—"

"A maid?" I finished her sentence, my voice muffled slightly by the respirator but carrying a cold, razor-sharp authority that made her instantly choke on her words. I stepped fully into the harsh fluorescent light of the bridge, keeping the thermal scope locked dead-center on Julian’s chest. "You should have checked who was holding the keys to the armory before you decided to play queen, Bianca."

Julian’s eyes darted frantically from the barrel of my gun to the glowing progress bar on the master terminal screen. The upload was at ninety-eight percent. Just a few more seconds and the syndicate’s entire financial network would be irrevocably transferred to Valenti-held offshore accounts, rendering Adrian powerless.

A desperate, manic grin spread across Julian’s face. He didn't reach for his gun; instead, his right hand hovered directly over the large, red emergency override switch mounted on the central console.

"You're too late, little servant," Julian laughed, his voice cracking with hysteric triumph. "Ninety-nine percent. You can shoot me all you want, but the moment my finger hits this switch, the ship’s reactor initiates an emergency overload. We all go straight to the bottom of the bay!"

"Try it," I whispered, applying just enough pressure to the trigger to take up the slack. "And I guarantee my bullet reaches your heart a full second before your finger hits that button."

Julian’s hand froze inches above the red switch. The arrogant, untouchable mafia heir was sweating profusely now, his chest heaving as he realized I wasn't bluffing. In my eyes, he didn't see a terrified servant girl anymore; he saw an executioner.

Behind him, on the floor near the server rack, a low, wet groan broke the tense silence.

Marcus stirred.

The traitorous bodyguard shifted his weight, his hand clawing weakly against the metal grating as he tried to push himself up from the growing pool of his own blood. His tactical vest was ruined, torn apart by a close-range blast from one of Julian’s own panic-stricken mercenaries.

"Julian... you... you bastard..." Marcus choked out, coughing up a dark spray of blood as he realized the truth of who had shot him in the back during the chaos of the manor retreat.

Julian didn't even glance down at his dying subordinate. "Shut up, you pathetic dog. You served your purpose."

"No," I said, my gaze never leaving Julian’s face. "He served your ambition, Julian. And you threw him away just like you're about to throw Bianca away when things get inconvenient."

Bianca turned her head sharply toward Julian, her face contorted with sudden, horrifying realization. "What... what did you just say?"

"Be quiet, Bianca!" Julian snapped, his eyes darting back to me. "She's trying to manipulate you—"

"Am I?" I cut him off, keeping my weapon steady. "Ask him who ordered the secondary charges in the manor while you were still inside. Ask him why the emergency exit was welded shut from the outside before we arrived. Julian didn't bring you along as a partner, Bianca. You were always just a distraction. A pretty shield to take the heat off him while he looted the family vault."

Bianca’s breath hitched. She looked at Julian, seeing the cold, sociopathic calculation mirrored in his wide, panicked eyes. The absolute devotion she had harbored for him dissolved in a single heartbeat, replaced by a dark, simmering rage.

"Is that true?" Bianca whispered, her voice dropping into a dangerous, deadly register. "Was I just... a pawn to you?"

"Don't be a fool, Bianca! She's lying!" Julian shouted, his finger twitching closer to the red override switch. "Kill her! If you have any loyalty left, grab the backup pistol from the rack and shoot the maid!"

Bianca slowly turned her head away from Julian. Her eyes locked onto mine—not with the bitter, petty jealousy she had shown at the manor, but with the cold, calculating fury of a woman scorned beyond redemption.

She didn't pick up a gun. Instead, her manicured hand slid slowly into the deep pocket of her velvet coat.

"You're right," Bianca murmured softly, a terrifying smile curving her lips. "He never loved anyone except his own reflection."

In one blinding, unexpected movement, Bianca whipped her hand out of her pocket.

Clutched in her fingers was not a gun, but a heavy, solid-gold antique paperweight she had pocketed from the manor study. Before Julian could react, she swung it with all her remaining strength, smashing it directly against the side of Julian’s temple with a sickening *CRACK*.

Julian’s eyes rolled back instantly. His knees buckled, and he collapsed heavily onto the console, his fingers slamming down awkwardly against the keyboard just as the upload progress bar hit one hundred percent—and the main screen flashed a blinding, crimson warning: *SYSTEM LOCKED. RECOVERY PROTOCOL INITIATED.*

Julian slumped unconscious over the console, blood trickling from his temple onto the glowing keys.

Bianca stood panting over his limp body, her hair disheveled, her face bruised and streaked with soot, laughing softly like a madwoman.

Before I could lower my carbine to cover her, the heavy steel door behind me was kicked violently open.

Adrian stood in the threshold, his face caked in soot and dried blood, his assault rifle raised and ready. His dark eyes swept the bridge in a fraction of a second, taking in Julian unconscious on the console, a bleeding Marcus on the floor, and Bianca standing over them with a mad glint in her eyes.

Adrian slowly lowered the barrel of his rifle, stepping into the room. His gaze finally settled on me, a profound, unshakable wave of relief washing over his hardened features.

"Are you alright, Elena?" he asked, his voice unusually soft amidst the ruins of the ship.