Part 2: When a billionaire heir stepped out into his mansion's hallway at 3:00 AM, his foot struck a frayed mattress where a terrified woman was forced to sleep.

Before the first intruder could bring his barrel to bear, Victor fired three precise shots into the doorway. The lead mercenary collapsed backward, blocking the threshold for the second man.

Victor closed the distance instantly, striking the second attacker’s wrist to deflect his weapon upward as a round discharged into the ornate ceiling plaster. Victor delivered a crushing strike to the man’s chest, throwing him back against the doorframe, before turning his firearm on the third operative.

The third intruder dropped his weapon and fell back into the dark hallway, where Marco’s security team swarmed him from the stairwell.

Silence returned to the master suite, broken only by the heavy breathing of the men and the rain pounding against the glass.

Victor turned back toward the room, his weapon lowered, his eyes searching the shadows near the bed. “Bridget!”

Bridget emerged from behind the heavy mahogany wardrobe, holding the brass candlestick like a club, her knuckles pale, her chest heaving with adrenaline.

Victor let out a low breath, stepping toward her and taking the heavy brass object from her hands before pulling her into his arms. He held her tight against his chest, his heart thumping loudly against his ribs.

“You’re safe,” he murmured into her hair. “It’s over.”

“Victor,” Marco called out from the doorway, stepping past the downed mercenaries. “We swept the lower floor. Julian tried to escape through the south gate in his car, but the perimeter team pinned him against the stone wall. We have him in the basement holding room.”

Victor’s eyes hardened into steel as he released Bridget gently. “Keep guards inside this room until I return.”