Roman's POV
The silence behind the rusted steel door wasn’t comforting it was thick, unnatural, crawling under my skin like a parasite. I didn’t knock. I kicked the damn thing open with full force, the hinges screaming under the pressure, my heart thundering like a war drum in my chest.
And then.
I froze.
My breath caught in my throat.
Under the dim flicker of a dying bulb, I saw them. Clara and Lana. Standing there like witches, like monsters, like demons in human skin. And between them—God help me—was a coffin.
A f*****g coffin.
And strapped to the side of it, blinking with the kind of rage only death understands… was a bomb.
Real. Armed. Counting down.
Seconds slipping away like her last breaths.
“You’re too late,” Lana sneered, eyes sharp, wild, venomous. “The moment you take
