Chapter 1619:


    A faint, unfamiliar tension lingered in the air, thick with the metallic trace of blood and something far quieter, far more intimate beneath it.


    Chris’s heart mmed violently against his ribs, each impact unsteady and uncontrolled. The echo of that fleeting moment of terror still clung to his nerves, leaving his fingertips quivering despite his effort to steady them. His eyes dragged over Maia’s body from head to toe, frantic and searching, as though he needed proof that something precious had escaped damage.


    “You…” His throat worked visibly, his Adam’s apple rising and falling before he forced the words out in a strained, hushed tone. “You’re not hurt, are you?”


    Maia lifted her gaze to meet his. Close enough now to feel the warmth radiating from him, she took in the bloodshot veins streaking the whites of his eyes, the cold sweat dampening his brow, and the barely contained panic twisting his features — carrying an oddly endearing clumsiness.


    In truth, Maia’s attention had been locked entirely on eliminating the two covert operatives. She hadn’t registered his arrival at all. From her point of view, he had simply thrown himself into the situation without warning, rushing forward with misced urgency, only to grasp at empty space. The whole thing bordered on hrious.


    ??i???? n????еl ???????? on ?????????v??????.??????


    But the moment her eyes dropped to his hands — faintly unsteady with restrained fear — a quiet fracture formed in her resolve before she could stop it. Chris might hide behind evasive words, but when it mattered, he had stepped forward without hesitation.


    Maia inclined her head in a small acknowledgment, the faintest trace of a smile softening her expression. “I’m alright,” she replied quietly. For now, she chose to let go of her anger, setting it aside withoutment.


    “Freeze! Release your weapons immediately!”


    At that exact moment, the members of The Mask stormed into thepartment. Blinding shlight beams swept across the confined space as rows of dark gun barrels locked onto the unconscious operative.


    Bathed in the harsh re, Grayson advanced with measured steps, his expression tightened by unmistakable gravity. His eyes darted first toward Maia — standing unharmed — and a brief sh of disbelief flickered across his face. A momentter, he lowered himself to one knee beside the fallen operative and began inspecting the damage. With every passing second, the tension in his face deepened.


    He drew in a sharp, restrained breath and carefully pressed his palm against the operative’s copsed chest, testing the extent of the injury. Beneath his touch, the structure gave unnaturally, the shattered remains of bone offering no resistance. His mind worked quickly through the severity of the trauma. At least three ribs had beenpletely broken — not cleanly, but twisted inward. One had almost certainly punctured a vital organ, the lung or the spleen. Without immediate intervention, survival beyond thirty minutes would be impossible.


    This was not random damage. It bore the unmistakable mark of a lethal martial strike.


    .


    .


    .