Chapter 124

**Hadassah POV**

At the bottom, Sasha directs me to the tech surveillance station—a small room brimming with screens, wires, and blinking lights. Another remote control center that manages the palace’s entire security grid, including access to the elevator.
“Not our biggest problem,” she says, pointing at one of the monitors.
The live surveillance feed. And one of the sectors showcases two Viano vans trapped within the gate. I don’t see Armend, but Emilia is standing outside with her arm outstretched, holding a gun. Soon she’s about to be pinned because there’s a squadron running towards her on foot.
I focus on the immediate problem. I hurry for the terminal that controls all the gates—even the underground garage door and I open everything. After I’m down inputting a sequence, the screens blink out, and the elevator controls go dead. The doors seal shut with a final hiss, locking the palace security out. And then I motion Sasha and the girl back before I shoot up the entire station, sparks and fragments flying as the girl screams at the skull-rattling cacophony as I make sure no one on the palace grounds can reverse what I did—effectively knocking out the primary power of the entire estate. Leaving everything open whilst everything is dead—even if there’s backup power, it’s going to take several minutes to completely reboot the system.
I flip the safety on the rifle before I chuck it away. I eye the jaw-dropping collection of both classic cars and exotic sports vehicles. Sasha discards her rifle as she watches me go for a cabinet box with all the keys to the cars—all marked. And I grab a random key and I jog ahead, pressing the button and it signals me to the Lamborghini Urus—a sleek, midnight black SUV with sharp, aggressive lines and glowing red brake calipers.
The doors open and I slide into the plush bolster seat of the driver. Sasha climbs in next to me and fixes the girl on her lap before both doors seal close. The moment I hit the ignition button, the car comes to life with a deep, throaty roar. The V8 engine snarls, vibrating through the entire cabin like a feral animal ready to pounce. The dashboard lights up with an array of digital displays, casting a soft blue glow across the interior.
The steering wheel is firm in my grip as I flick the car into drive. Instantly, the Urus surges forward, tires squealing as the Pirelli rubber fights to grip the smooth concrete. The twin-turbocharged engine unleashes its horsepower, and the car rockets toward the exit ramp with brutal acceleration, the needle on the speedometer climbing rapidly. I can’t help but release an exhilarated roar and Sasha joins in as the little girl cracks into a nervous laugh.
“Hold on!” I yell as the Urus hurtles up the narrow, spiraling ramp, the walls of the underground garage blurring past in a kaleidoscope of concrete and shadow. The sound of the engine reverberates off the walls, a furious growl echoing through the confined space.
I punch the gas harder. It responds instantly, its massive body hugging the curves with unnerving precision for such a hulking machine. The Lamborghini's immense power rumbling beneath my feet.
As we reach the top of the ramp, the Urus shoots out of the underground like a bullet, the palace grounds spread out ahead. Moonlight flickers over the sprawling estate—ornate gardens, fountains, and tall, wrought-iron gates in the distance marking the primary exit.
Guards emerge from side buildings, rifles raised and ready. They fire at the SUV, bullets pinging off the bulletproof windows and armor-plated exterior—clearly a custom sob. Sparks fly as rounds ricochets harmlessly off the Lamborghini’s glossy paint. And yet the little girl still hunkers down, holding her head with her face mostly in her lap.
I turn sharp and the Urus responds like it’s a part of my own body, the precision steering sending us sliding into a drift as I round the corner. The back tires screech in protest, but the Urus holds its grip, leaving a trail of burnt rubber in its wake.
Ahead, the primary exit looms—a towering metal gate opened with wrought arms wide. I spot the squad closing on Emilia and the other women packed safely in both Vianos. I veer off the palaver road to ride off-road on the grass, aiming right for them and before they can even turn around. I ram into them and like bowling pins, they all go flying as I swerve hard, drifting in a semicircle, knocking them all over.
“Let’s go.”
We all hop out and I round the hood to see Emilia ogling at me and the car.
“Well, that was hot.”
I lift a shoulder—pain lancing through the motion. “Well, I like to make an entrance.”
Amazement disappears into an expressionless look as her arm whips back up to shoot down the stragglers trying to clamber to their feet. She drops them all but concern lures my mind to a different problem. And that is why there aren't more squads out here, racing towards the gate. There should be more—a lot more men manning the gates—especially the primary.
I spot Armend in the passenger side of one of the Vianos and I see him scurrying away from the door the moment we lock eyes. I hurry towards the door to fling it open before I wrench him out and his body hits the gravel with a crunchy thud. I nod Sasha over and she and the little girl dash towards the vacated space.
Sasha takes a detour to me, forcing me to halt by taking a gentle hold of my bicep.
“You’ve been shot.”
I slip from her grasp gingerly. “Nothing serious, I promise.”
I move to claim the Viano Emilia rode and she commandeers the second one, moving the driver, who is one of the women, to the passenger side. And that's when the gates begin to close. I floor it. The Viano roars, surging forward with a thunderous growl. The van rockets down the reminder of the driveway, headlights blazing. The gap is shrinking, but we are both gaining even with only seconds.
With a final, savage burst of speed, the Viano shoots through behind the other through the narrow gap just as the gates slam shut behind us. The entire vehicle jolts as the tires hit the uneven road outside, but the van powers through, speeding off into the night.
Sasha and the rest of the women free a soul-lifting cheer with merry laughs that saturates the inside of the van. Emilia accelerates and pulls up beside me, sidling the Viano as she throws up a jubilant gesture.
I look forward, grinning by myself before I glance at the little girl who has an emotional look of relief on her face that teases my tears. She likely felt what all those women felt. Hopelessness. Because they believed no one would rescue them because no one would care that they went missing.
I can’t celebrate. I know better than that.
Usually for one life saved, ten more are killed.