A dead man’s finger moved beneath a blood-soaked sheet just seconds after the hospital declared him gone

The underground bunker erupted into chaos. Sound suppression panels muffled the distant thud of automatic gunfire coming from the upper floors, but the vibrations shook dust from the concrete ceiling.

Rafael grabbed Maya by the shoulder, pulling her toward a concealed door hidden behind a rack of server equipment. "Miss Sinclair, move! Now!"

Maya looked back over her shoulder just as Damon moved toward the main corridor, his movements sharp, lethal, and calculated despite his injuries. The contrast between the fragile patient she had cared for and the terrifying commander standing before her was staggering.

"Damon!" she screamed over the noise.

He turned for a fraction of a second, his gray eyes locking onto hers through the smoke and flashing red lights. "Trust me," he said.

Rafael shoved her through the hidden door into a narrow, damp brick tunnel that sloped downward into the darkness. They ran for what felt like miles, the sound of gunfire fading behind them, replaced by the echo of their heavy footfalls and splashing water.

The tunnel led to an abandoned subway drainage vault near the Salt River. A matte-black SUV was parked in the shadows, its engine idling silently.

"Get in," Rafael said, holding the door for her.

"Where is he?" Maya demanded, refusing to step into the vehicle. "We can't just leave him there! He’s only three weeks out of major trauma!"

"The boss knows what he’s doing, Maya," Rafael said, his voice surprisingly soft. "This wasn't a surprise attack. He set a trap."

Maya blinked, processing the words. "A trap?"

"Damon allowed Vance to find this location," Rafael explained, keeping an eye on the tunnel exit. "Vance brought every loyal soldier he had left to wipe us out in one stroke. But Damon had two dozen heavily armed squads waiting outside the warehouse to box them in. Tonight, the war ends."

Ten excruciating minutes passed. Maya sat in the back of the SUV, her hands clasped together in prayer, her eyes fixed on the dark mouth of the drainage tunnel. Every second felt like an eternity.

Then, a shadowy figure emerged from the tunnel, stepping slowly into the faint moonlight.

Damon walked out, his dark coat dusted with concrete debris, his expression cold and tired. He carried no weapon in his hand. He was alone.

Maya didn't wait for Rafael to open the door. She threw herself out of the vehicle and ran down the muddy bank toward him.

"Damon!"

He stopped as she reached him, his eyes softening instantly. Before she could inspect him for fresh wounds, she threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder. Damon hesitated for a second, then wrapped his strong arms around her waist, pulling her close against his chest.

"I’m fine," he murmured into her hair, his breath warm against her cold skin. "It’s over."

"Is Vance...?"

"Vance is no longer a threat," Damon said simply. "The Syndicate is ours again. But more importantly... you are safe."

Maya pulled back slightly, looking up into his face. There was blood on his collar, but none of it was his own. His heart was beating steady and strong beneath her hand—the same heart she had felt flutter back to life in Trauma Three.