The words hadn’t even finished echoing before Rafael’s crew scattered.

Zubair caught it in the fine-tuned movements first. The quick coil of muscle in a shoulder, the way rifles snapped shut with the same practiced cadence.

A ledger vanished into a pocket. Boots struck steel steps like dominoes falling. Whatever tasks had mattered a heartbeat ago were erased by that single command.

Now there was only one order that mattered: move.

Engines roared to life below in the barricade yard.

Doors slammed in unison, the sound rolling across the yard like thunder.

A convoy that had been lounging like wolves in the sun became a storm of teeth and claws in motion, each truck jerking forward in a spray of gravel.

No one explained, no one even said a word.

Not like Zubair was expecting them to.

Words weren’t needed when survival was speaking.

Men didn’t drop everything with that kind of precision unless the danger was already too close for comfort.

Elias snapped the folded map closed hard enough to crease its corner.

His face gave nothing away, but his hands—steady, exact—moved with more force than necessary.

Alexei’s smirk slipped a fraction, his eyes darting to the upper windows of the building like he half-expected glass to shatter.

Lachlan rolled his shoulders loose, a man ready to throw a punch, but the joke sitting on his tongue withered before he let it out.

For a split second, they looked at one another. Uneasy. Unspoken. Shared.

And then Sera cut through it.

"Follow."

One word. Not loud. Not sharp. Just certain.

The way she said it made Zubair pause in the middle of sliding into the driver’s seat.

That word carried more weight than the runner’s frantic shout. She didn’t need to raise her voice or explain herself. She knew that something wasn’t right. Just like she knew that night of the cabin when the weather hadn’t so much as shifted.

And just like that night, he wouldn’t question her decision.

Zubair settled behind the wheel.

The truck rumbled to life under his hand, smooth despite its age. He shifted the gearstick with the confidence of a man who had kept engines alive in worse conditions than this.

Alexei was already in the back, checking straps and tie-downs, humming tunelessly—whether nerves or habit, Zubair couldn’t tell.

Elias adjusted the med kit to keep it within reach, bracing one palm against the dash. Lachlan climbed in last, slamming the passenger-side door hard enough that the sound felt like a declaration.

The barricade lane outside was a scene of controlled chaos. Vehicles jostling forward at break-neck speeds, Rafael’s men driving with no regard for order or neatness.

They didn’t look back at KAS.

Didn’t wave. Didn’t offer warnings or signals.

They just went, fast enough to spray gravel in long arcs, tight enough that there was no room for hesitation.

Zubair pressed the clutch, shifted down, and slid their truck into the wake of the convoy.

In the rearview mirror, he saw the barricade closing. Chains rising. Steel teeth locking into place.

It was deliberate, efficient, and final, like the world had drawn a line behind them and decided they no longer had the option to turn back.

Beside him, Sera leaned forward in her seat. Her eyes tracked the convoy ahead, a half-smile tugging at her lips as though the panic of Rafael’s men was less concerning than it should have been.

"This is their territory," she started, still staring at the vehicle in front of her. "And they have proven several times today that they aren’t scared of anything. Anything that makes them run this hard," she continued quietly, almost to herself, "we don’t want to meet standing still."

Her certainty tightened Zubair’s grip on the wheel.

He pressed the accelerator.

The truck leapt forward to obey.

He didn’t even think anyone would have noticed the trucks and supplies behind them vanishing into thin air.

------

They fell into line behind Rafael’s convoy, headlights bouncing in the churned-up dust.

Trucks ahead fishtailed in the gravel but never slowed down to gain traction.

The drivers weren’t reckless—they were committed. Every gear shift, every lane change, every honk of a horn was part of a silent language only Rafael’s men seemed fluent in.

Zubair matched them gear for gear. He might not have understood the rules of this new game, but he knew how to read men who’d been trained to move as one.

"Is anyone going to tell us why we aren’t going our own way?" Lachlan muttered, bracing a hand on the dash as Zubair swung wide to avoid a pothole. "Clearly they aren’t going to be following us anytime soon, so why are we now the ones doing the chasing?"

"Like Sera said," Alexei called from the back. He sounded far too entertained for someone bouncing around among their supplies. "Our gracious host doesn’t seem like the oversharing type. One thing I learned in the old country was that you never had to be faster than the bear, you just couldn’t be the slowest of the humans."

Elias didn’t look up from the map he had reopened across his knees.

He tracked their path by the headlights sweeping across landmarks and murmured something about direction, half to himself. Zubair let him.

Elias’s mutterings had a way of turning into truths when needed.

The convoy turned sharply left at an unmarked lane, scattering loose rocks. Zubair followed without hesitation, tires gripping, engine snarling in protest.

Dust stung the air. The smell of exhaust mixed with the tang of overheated brakes.

In the headlights, Zubair caught glimpses of Rafael’s men leaning out of windows to shout orders. No wasted words. No panic in their voices. Just urgency.

Sera’s half-smile remained, her eyes glinting in the reflected dash light. She looked alive in a way he hadn’t seen before—like this was exactly the kind of chaos she’d been waiting for.

-------

The mansion rose out of the darkness sooner than expected, its high walls and iron gates looming like the jaws of some beast waiting to swallow them whole.

Rafael’s men didn’t slow to admire it. They roared through the gates, scattering across the yard.

And then Zubair saw something that made his brows draw down in surprise.

They didn’t care where they parked.

Trucks skidded sideways, bumpers nearly kissing stone walls, doors thrown open before engines had fully stopped. There were no straight lines of vehicles, no backing into parking spaces to make it easier to get out. It was like they didn’t care about the cars.

Men spilled out, not with the order of soldiers in formation but with the instinctive flow of water flooding into a low space.

They all streamed for the front doors of the mansion as though pulled by gravity.

Zubair slowed only enough to avoid ramming the vehicle ahead before sliding their truck into the yard.

Rafael stood near the front steps, goggles and bandana still covering his face. He glanced back at KAS just long enough to toss a warning over his shoulder.

"You’re smarter than you look. But I suggest you hurry up. The doors close in fifteen seconds, and nothing you say or do will get us to open them again."

The words weren’t barked. They were casual. Certain. And that certainty made them heavier than any threat.

Lachlan swore under his breath. "Fifteen seconds? He could’ve mentioned that earlier."

Sera didn’t wait for debate. She moved first, her stride quick and decisive.

Zubair locked the truck and followed, his pace measured but fast. Elias was right behind him, tucking the map into his coat as if he could carry a whole world in those folds.

Alexei swung the strap of his bag over one shoulder and jogged with infuriating ease, still smirking as though the countdown was a game. Lachlan brought up the rear, muttering about hosts with bad manners.

They passed Rafael before he’d even reached the first step. His brows lifted slightly above the goggles, just enough to register surprise.

KAS reached the doors first.

And then they were inside.

The doors slammed shut behind them with a bang that shook the frame, sealing them in darkness and candlelight.

Zubair’s chest rose once, steady.

He didn’t like being funneled into anyone’s stronghold without knowing the rules.

But Sera was smiling again, sharp-edged and certain, and he found himself trusting that more than any lock Rafael’s men could set.