Liam pressed his back against the wooden counter, gripping the pistol tightly in his left hand while blood trickled from the bullet wound in his shoulder. His breathing was uneven, but his mind remained sharp, calculating his next move. He knew they were coming—he could hear their footsteps creeping closer. The sound of shifting boots against the tiled floor echoed in the hallway, and his sharp instincts told him they were closing in from behind.
Instead of panicking, he closed his eyes and waited.
The moment the first man came into view, Liam struck like a viper.
He lunged from his hiding spot, his body moving with a burst of raw force as he drove the knife into the man's leg. The blade sank deep into muscle and bone, drawing a guttural scream from his victim.
Liam didn't stop there.
