LOSING GAME

LOSING GAME

Brianna’s POV

"Wait, are you telling me I was unconscious the entire way from Chicago to Europe?"

"It seems so," Dax replied, his tone grim. "Now, let's move."

I let him lead the way, but just as we stepped out, he suddenly pushed me back inside. My heart lurched.

"What—?"

The security guard I knocked out earlier had regained consciousness. Before he could react, I struck again, sending him back to the ground.

"Dax, what the hell are you doing?"

"We can’t go out there."

"Why not?"

"Just take a look."

Frowning, I peered out into the hallway. It was empty. Not a single soul in sight.

"There’s no one here," I said, confused.

"I know. But look up."

My gaze followed his, and my stomach dropped. Lasers. Cameras. Everywhere.

"What the heck? Why the hell would they install all of this in one hallway?"

"So we can’t escape," Dax muttered. "If we want to get out of here alive, we need to take them down first."

"God, and here I was thinking this would be easy." I sighed.

"Let’s start with the cameras first."

"No," I corrected. "You take down the lasers. I’ll handle the cameras."

Dax arched a brow. "You sure?"

I smirked and held up two guns. "I stole this one from Jake… and this one from the guard."

"Alright," he nodded. "Start with the one on your right."

It wasn’t hard to take down, but I knew better than to think they were stupid. The second the cameras lost connection, someone would know something was up. I could only hope Chan had followed me down here.

"We need to find the control room," Dax said as soon as we cleared the hallway.

"Why?"

"I need to find my stepbrother. Jake took him to get to me."

I halted. "Wait, what?"

"Not now," he muttered. "Let’s keep moving."

"We don’t even know where it is."

"Don’t worry about that. I think I can find it."

We took the stairs, avoiding the elevators to reduce the risk of getting trapped. For some reason, I expected resistance—guards, alarms, something. But the building was eerily quiet. Too quiet.

"Where the hell is everyone?" I whispered.

"This doesn’t feel right," Dax muttered.

Minutes later, we found the control room. Empty. My stomach twisted. There was no way Jake had come here alone.

"This is suspicious," I muttered.

Dax scanned the monitors. "Call the police. I’ll stand watch."

As I pulled out my phone, he continued searching for any trace of his brother. Moments later, his face darkened.

"I don’t think they brought him here," he admitted. "But you need to see this."

I stepped closer. "See what?"

"The reason the building seems empty."

I followed his gaze to the security feeds. My breath caught. At least ten to fifteen heavily armed men were stationed at every exit.

"So that’s why it looks deserted," I murmured. "They’re guarding the exits."

Dax clenched his jaw. "Can we take them down?"

"I don't know, but we have to try either way. We're dead meat if we don’t make a move. If Jake regains consciousness, he’ll alert them."

I stole a glance at the monitors, my pulse quickening. "I don’t know how long the drug in his system will last—could be hours, could be minutes."

"Then we need to—ahh," Dax groaned, staggering back as he clutched his lower abdomen.

My heart stopped. That’s when I saw the dark crimson soaking through his shirt.

"Dax!" I gasped, rushing to his side, my hands trembling as I reached for him. The warmth of his blood against my fingers sent a chill through me. The gash was deep, and from the jagged tear in the fabric, I knew he’d taken more than one hit.

"You weren’t supposed to see that," he muttered, trying to straighten up, but his body betrayed him. "I’m fine. We need to go."

I shot him a glare, my voice sharp. "I thought we agreed—no more secrets. When were you planning to tell me you were bleeding out?"

Dax’s POV

The sheer worry in her eyes made something inside me twist, but I couldn’t stop the smirk forming on my lips. Even in the middle of chaos, she looked breathtaking.

"You do realize our relationship is the most chaotic one ever, right?" I tried to lighten the mood.

"What? Don’t change the subject!" she snapped, her brows furrowed in frustration.

"Brianna, I just—I need to apologize for making your life a mess," I said, my voice softer this time.

"Shut up," she muttered, tearing a strip from her shirt with quick, determined movements. She pressed it against my wound with a surprising gentleness, her fingers warm against my skin.

I found myself watching her, drinking in every detail of her face—her parted lips, the crease of worry in her forehead, the way her lashes fluttered as she focused on helping me.

"Before we go out there, can I confess my dying love for you?" I asked, a teasing smirk creeping onto my face despite the pain burning in my side.

She rolled her eyes, exasperated. "This is not the time to mess around," she huffed. "If you really want to tell me, then try not to get yourself killed. We need to find weapons."

I let out a small chuckle before, without thinking, I pulled her into my arms, holding her tighter than I should.

"Dax, what are you doing? We need to move," she said, her voice uncertain now.

"Just… a few more minutes," I murmured, closing my eyes briefly as I tried to figure out a way to keep her safe.

She stiffened for a moment but then sighed. "Dax—"

Before she could finish, she surprised me. She leaned in and pressed a soft, fleeting kiss to my cheek.

I froze. My entire body reacted to that one simple touch, and suddenly, I wasn’t thinking about the pain or the danger lurking beyond that door.

I stared at her, my mouth slightly open, words failing me for the first time.

"Brianna… I’m sorry," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

She frowned. "Sorry for what?"

Instead of answering, I did the only reckless thing I could think of.

I cupped her face, my fingers brushing against her skin, and pulled her closer.

Then I kissed her.

It wasn’t a gentle, hesitant kiss—it was desperate, raw, filled with every unspoken word, every bottled-up emotion. I kissed her like my life depended on it.

Because, in this moment, it just might.

And just like that—it was enough of a distraction to reach the door.

I pushed her back, ignoring the look of shock in her eyes, and slammed the door shut, locking it from the outside.

"What? Dax, what are you doing?"

"I’m sorry, Brianna," I said, my voice tight with guilt.

"No! Dax, open this door right now!" she screamed, pounding against the door.

I clenched my jaw, shutting out the sound of her frantic pleas. I had no choice. She wasn’t meant to be part of this fight.

Taking a deep breath, I turned on my heel and headed straight for the elevator, my heart hammering in my chest. As the doors slid shut, I glanced at the security monitor. The police better get here on time.

Fifty. That was the number of men stationed around the compound, as confirmed by the CCTV feed. They were still unaware of my movements—for now.

I slipped out through the back door, only to be met with two guards standing directly in my path.

They barely had time to react before I lunged. One punch to the throat, a swift kick to the ribs—one down. The second reached for his weapon, but I was faster, slamming his head against the wall. He crumpled.

Dragging their unconscious bodies into an empty storage room, I secured them inside and grabbed their weapons. Two guns. Not enough, but better than nothing.

I turned, ready to make my next move—

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

A shrill alarm blared through the hallway. My stomach dropped.

Damn it. I missed the security trigger. The cameras had flagged me as an intruder.

Oh boy, this is not good.

Brianna’s POV

I slammed my fists against the locked door. "Damn it, Dax!"

Why did he always have to be so reckless?

Frustrated, I turned to the computer screen, my stomach twisting into knots as the alarm echoed through the building. My heart plummeted when I saw the security footage.

The blaring alarm had alerted everyone. One by one, the men stationed outside turned toward the building, guns drawn, moving with deadly precision.

Dax, what the hell have you done?

Tears welled up in my eyes as the reality of the situation hit me like a freight train.

He was alone. Just him—against all of them.

This wasn’t a battle.

It was a death sentence.