Four little boys in matching navy uniforms walked into a restaurant bathroom hours before my million-dollar engagement. Five minutes later, I stared into four identical versions of my own face.

The warehouse erupted into absolute chaos.

Federal agents and private security contractors poured out of the armored vehicle, flooding the room with strobe lights and deafening shouts. Victor’s mercenaries were caught completely off guard, trapped between Silas’s covering fire and the tactical assault team.

"FBI! Drop your weapons!" a voice boomed over a megaphone.

Victor’s men didn't surrender; they were professionals hired to fight to the death. The gunfight was deafening. I grabbed Mara's hand, keeping her low to the ground as we crawled away from the server racks, desperately trying to put distance between us and the crossfire.

Through the thick haze of gun smoke and flashing lights, I lost sight of Victor.

"We need to get to the extraction team!" Silas yelled, appearing out of the smoke, reloading his rifle with practiced ease. "Move!"

We sprinted toward the gaping hole in the wall where the armored vehicle had crashed. Just as we reached the debris, a shadow stepped out from behind a stack of shipping crates.

It was Victor.

His suit was covered in dust, and he was bleeding from a shrapnel wound in his arm, but his eyes were locked on Mara. He raised a silver handgun, aiming directly at her chest.

"If I lose everything, you lose everything," Victor snarled, his finger tightening on the trigger.

Time seemed to slow down. I didn't think. I didn't calculate the distance or the odds. I threw my body completely in front of Mara, shielding her with my back just as the gunshot rang out.

I felt a massive impact slam into my ribs, knocking the wind out of my lungs. I collapsed onto the concrete, the world spinning in flashes of light and sound.

"Julian!" Mara screamed, dropping to her knees beside me.

Victor prepared to fire again to finish the job, but he never got the chance. Silas stepped forward, leveling his rifle, and fired a three-round burst directly into Victor’s chest.

The ghost of my past stumbled backward, the arrogant smirk finally wiped from his face. He collapsed onto the cold concrete, staring blankly up at the ceiling as the life drained out of him.

The warehouse fell silent as the remaining mercenaries surrendered to the FBI.

Mara pressed her hands frantically against my chest, crying. I looked down, expecting to see a fatal wound. Instead, I saw the crushed bullet lodged deep in the Kevlar tactical vest Silas had forced me to wear before we left the bunker.