“How much longer do you think this might take?” Bas demanded of the one remaining agent in the room. Sean had left over an hour ago to apprehend Alexei, and though Drew kept checking his phone for the promised text, none of them had heard anything.

Then again, Deb wasn’t as keen on sharing information as Sean had been. Her primary job seemed to be compulsively scrolling through the video feeds, ignoring all the men in the room.

“It’ll take as long as it takes,” Deb said, like she’d come up with something profound and philosophical. “It’s impossible to predict.”

Bas clenched his teeth against a stinging retort. It might have been impossible to predict Sean’s return, but it didn’t take psychic powers to realize they didn’t have time to wait around. One look at the security monitors showed thick, black smoke clogging the ballroom, effectively blinding the cameras in there. Though it was impossible to tell exactly what was on fire, the situation was obviously not under control and seemed to be getting worse. Other screens showed smoke billowing from the ballroom, filling the hallway, moving steadily closer to the supposedly safe room where his family was holed up.

He leaned back propping his ass against the desk, pulled Drew against his chest, and surveyed the room. Cort had moved to sit against the wall using his tuxedo jacket as a headrest. Cam was curled up in a ball with his head on Cort’s thigh, while Cort carded his fingers lovingly through Cam’s hair. Meanwhile, Damon was sitting against a wire shelving unit with his feet flat on the floor, knees bent and spread wide to accommodate Cain, who was leaning sideways against his chest. It couldn’t have been a comfortable position for Damon, even if he had a full range of motion in his legs, but given the way he and Cain were staring at each other, he didn’t really care.

Bas gathered Drew tighter, taking comfort in the solid weight pressed to his chest. The emotional whiplash of the evening - panic, to relief, and back to nagging worry - was taking a toll on all of them, and he knew they were all beyond ready for this night to be over.

He brushed a kiss over Drew’s temple and felt Drew’s responding shudder to the tips of his toes. If there was a silver lining to this cluster-fuck of an evening, it was exactly this - a pliant Drew in his arms. It was so rare - unheard of, almost - for Andrew McMann to show vulnerability and let himself be comforted, and Bas accepted it as the honor it was.

And he was ready to take his man to bed for the solid month Drew had promised him… assuming they didn’t all die of smoke inhalation first.

He watched on the screen as smoke crept down the hallway like a sentient being. It was unnerving.

“Agent Gutierrez,” he tried again, more deferentially this time. “I’m not sure we’re safe here anymore. We need to weigh the slim danger of Alexei slipping away from Sean Cook’s team against the very real risk of fire. If you could contact Agent Cook…”

She shook her head stubbornly. “Orders are not to hail unless there’s an emergency. Your boredom doesn’t count. Please, Mr. Seaver, calm down.”

Bas exhaled and exchanged a glance with his brother-in-law on the floor. Can you do something?

Cort inclined his chin. “Hey, Deb? I think what Bas is trying to ask is, what’s the protocol in case the smoke gets worse or the fire flares?”

“Same as usual.” Deb turned her chair to face them and pursed her lips. “Firefighters are on the scene, and they know where we are. If the fire becomes a real threat, we follow the orders of the guys in the masks and boots. But there are no flames to be seen.”

Bas and Cort exchanged a look of disbelief, and Cort grimaced as the first tendrils of smoke began to curl beneath the door near his leg.

Still, Cort was polite as he said, “I have no idea what’s causing this smoke, but I think it might be worth hailing the FD, if you don’t want to bug Cooksy, so we know what we’re dealing with. Remember Cooksy appreciates people who take the initiative.”

Bas gave Cort an approving glance. Bonus points for dropping Sean Cook’s nickname, a reminder that he was close friends with her boss.

It seemed to work. “Fine,” she sighed. She paused her compulsive scrolling to glare at Cort. “But you heard Agent Cook. We’re staying in the room until he makes contact.” She touched her earpiece and requested a member of fire personnel report to the surveillance room to assess the situation.

Bas rolled his eyes. Assess? Please. The situation was fast approaching critical. On the monitor, a pair of firefighters came down the hall, half-crouched - probably for better visibility - and wearing full gear, including oxygen masks. He could imagine what their assessment would be.

One of the firefighters knocked on the door and Cain shuffled to his feet to pull it open for him. The men stepped inside, shutting the door against the smoke, and the one in front removed his mask.

“Hey, I’m Greg Prada from Engine 4. This is Jack Rodi from the One-Three.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder at his partner who lifted a hand in acknowledgement. “Situation’s pretty bad out there. Damage from the initial device was inadvertently compounded by the sprinkler - some kind of alkali reaction occurred. The device was placed right by some wall hangings, and the fire got into the soundproofing foam in the ceiling. We’re getting it under control, but we’re evacuating the entire building as a precaution. That includes you folks.”

Deb folded her arms over her chest. “These men are targets. They need to stay here as a precaution until my superior verifies that the person who planted the bombs has been caught. It’s nonnegotiable. I can’t guarantee their safety out there.”

“With all due respect, ma’am,” Prada said, as the acrid tang of smoke began to fill the room. “We have an emerging situation happening. I can’t guarantee their safety if they stay.”

“I’m not abandoning my post,” she argued, sweeping a hand at the monitors. “We need to keep an eye on the situation.”

“That’s your choice, but the others in this room don’t need to risk smoke inhalation!” Prada’s eyes were tired and his mouth grim.

Damon tapped Cain’s arm, and Cain scrambled to his feet before turning to offer his boyfriend a hand. “I think we’ll take our chances out there,” Damon rasped.

Drew straightened and looked at Bas with one eyebrow raised. Bas nodded, linking their fingers as they’d done before. A team, always. “We’re going too.”

“Same,” Cam agreed, standing up. He looked back down at Cort belatedly. “Aren’t we?”

Cort shook his head, hesitant. “I don’t like it,” he said. “Sean should have been back by now.”

“Well, maybe the processing part is taking longer than he thought.” Cam shrugged, coughing slightly.

“Or maybe Alexei had a gun and it’s taking longer to subdue him than anticipated,” Bas suggested. It only made sense, really. It had seemed impossible to him that, after all he’d put them through, Alexei would go down without a fight.

“Maybe,” Cort said, but it was clear he didn’t believe it. “If you’re determined to go, I’ll go with you.” He pushed himself to his feet and grabbed the tuxedo jacket he’d been using as headrest, tossing the folded fabric over his arm.

They walked out and let Rodi and Prada lead them down the hall, away from the smoke.

“There’s a back entrance this way,” Prada told them, turning around to walk backwards. “Through the laundry room in the basement. Leads to a parking area where a bunch of other folks were already evacuated. I’ll get you out there, and then come back for your agent friend.” He rolled his eyes. “She’s prickly.”

“She’s dedicated,” Cort corrected. His eyes followed Rodi as he turned right and pushed through a swinging door labeled Laundry.

“Sure, sure,” Prada said, pushing open the door and holding it wide as they all filed through. “Reminds me of my—”

But whatever comparison Prada was going to make was cut off in a sickening gurgle as a bullet hole ripped open his throat. His eyes widened in shock for one second before he collapsed to the floor.

For a second, Sebastian’s entire world seemed to have entered a state of suspended animation as his brain tried to process the jumble of his sensory input. Shot. Dead. Bomb. Smoke. Danger…Drew.

A crazy thought danced across his panicked brain - Is this how mom and dad felt during the crash? And then instinct took over and time sped up as Jack Rodi swung his gun in their direction.

“Holy shit!” Drew cried, just before Bas tackled him to the ground, covering him with his own stockier body.

“Touching,” Jack Rodi mocked as he removed his helmet and tossed it aside with one hand while holding his gun aloft in the other. “Truly, your selflessness is impressive.” He removed the mask from his face and tossed it, too, aside.

The man looked directly at Bas and smiled - the same insane smile Bas had pulled up countless times on the computer in his lair, the one that made SILA lieutenants cower. “You were right, Seaver. I do have a gun. And I’m going to be very, very difficult to subdue.”

Alexei marched them all to a storage area at the back of the laundry room, and shut the door behind them with the sharp clang of a lock snapping into place. The room was lined with shelves of various chemicals. A pile of rags lay in one corner, and two large white bins full of linens were pushed to one side. The tiny room had the distinct odor of bleach and fabric softener.

There was nothing in here to fight back with, no way to escape, and nowhere to hide. He wrapped his arms around the man he loved, burying his face in Drew’s hair.

Alexei had brought them here to die.

“You!” he said, motioning toward Sebastian with the gun. “Against the wall. The rest of you, too. Hands flat against the wall!”

Bas looked at Cort. If anyone here had any idea how to get them out of this, it would be him. But Cort seemed to only have eyes for Cam as they lined up their backs against the cold cinderblock.

“Ah! So perfect. All the faggot lovers stood in a row.” He grinned. “Alexei Ilyich throws the best parties. Just one thing missing!” He stalked to the corner, keeping his eyes and the gun trained on Sebastian the entire time, and kicked at the pile of rags.

“Batya!” Alexei called. “Wake up! You don’t want to be rude to our guests!”

As Bas watched in horror, the pile of rags shifted and moaned. “Alyosha?”

“Who else would it be but your one and only son? Look what I brought you.”

The pile shifted again, rolling slowly and tentatively, and a face emerged from beneath a bulky blanket.

Bas sucked in a breath.

The hair that had been snow-white this morning was now caked with dried blood, and the tanned, lined face was covered in bruises. Ilya Stornovich, a force to be reckoned with, had been brought low. His eyes were clouded with pain as he surveyed the men against the wall before finally focusing on his son.

“What,” he began, pausing to swipe his tongue over swollen lips. “What’s happening here, Alyosha?”

“I am so glad you asked!” Alexei reached down and yanked the blanket away from Ilya entirely, revealing his bloodied, rope-bound hands and what appeared to be a knife wound on his left flank.

Drew turned his head away, like he couldn’t stand the sight, and Bas moved his hand slightly so he could graze Drew’s thumb with his pinkie finger - the only comfort he could offer.

“I brought you a present,” Alexei told his father. “And I’ll have you know, I went through a fuck of a lot of trouble to get it for you. You tell me I’m weak? You say I force my men to do evil deeds in my name?” He reached down and grabbed his father by the hair, making Ilya cry out. “Not this time! No one did my work for me. I made the bombs, I planted them, I shot the firefighter, stole his gear, and hauled his carcass to the roof of the Parkside to throw the fucking Feds off my trail. So what do you say now?” he screamed. “What do you say now?”

“Alyosha,” Ilya cried, shaking his head in confusion. “Where has this come from? I do not even recognize you in this moment. Stop! Stop this madness!”

But Sebastian wasn’t sure Alexei could stop it. There was an unholy light in his eyes, a manic energy gripping him, and though he yelled and ranted like a lunatic, the gun pointed at Bas was held steady, and his finger was poised on the trigger.

Bas swallowed and moved his hand another fraction of an inch, placing his hand atop Drew’s. Drew’s brown eyes - terrified and beautiful - lifted to his.

“Madness?” Alexei scoffed, throwing his father back down to the ground so that his head hit the wall behind him with a dull thud. “There’s no madness here. There’s ambition. Determination. All the qualities you told me a good leader needed. Remember, batya? Remember what you told me?”

“I remember,” Ilya whispered sadly.

“The family comes first,” Alexei railed. “First, last, always. That’s what you told me. That’s what you taught me. But then you betrayed me, betrayed our family. You turned my own cousin against me, got him to lie for you. You talked to that fag reporter, telling him all your old war stories like he even gave a shit, like he wasn’t just using you to make a name for himself.” His nostrils flared. “I’m going for him as soon as I’m done here. And I will make him pay.”

Tears spilled down Ilya’s cheeks. “Alyosha. Alexei. My son. There is no need for this.”

“There is every need!” He stood, pacing in front of Bas and the others. “Now I see the truth - that I am the only one who will protect our family name. The only one I can trust is myself.”

Bas had the frantic thought that surely all of them, working together in close quarters, could take down one man with a handgun. But what if he got off a shot? What if one of them was killed as a result? He’d learned there were some things that weren’t worth risking.

He chanced another glance at Cort, and saw the man’s eyes were trained on Alexei, not in fear, like the rest of them, but in cold assessment. His jacket was draped over his right hand, hanging off his wrist in an odd way. And at that exact moment, Bas remembered that Natalie had given Cort her backup weapon.

Cort had a gun.

Bas swallowed and forced himself to look away.

“So now I will take care of SILA,” Alexei said, crouching by his father, who was openly crying now. “It’s mine now, and I will destroy anyone who threatens her, just like you taught me. And then you’ll be proud.” He slapped Ilya’s cheek with his palm. “Won’t you, batya?”

Ilya shook his head.

“Which one will I shoot first?” he demanded. “What would you have me do, hmm? This one?”

He pointed the gun at Damon, who stood closest to him, and Damon swallowed hard. “This is the one who couldn’t just die in that fucking plane crash like he should have. He’s been living on borrowed time already. Maybe his time has run out?”

He thrust forward with the gun and Cain cried, “No!” throwing himself in front of Damon’s body.

But Alexei hadn’t fired, and now he laughed out loud. “Oh. Oh my god. The child jumps in front of you to protect you?” he asked Damon, as Damon shoved Cain roughly behind him.

“Piz'dyulina! This is one of the men you betrayed me to protect?” he demanded of his father. “Pathetic. So, tell me which one first, Ilya Grigorovich? Shall I kill the brave little angel?”

“Shoot none of them, Alyosha. Please. This isn’t a show of strength, I tell you.”

Alexei ignored him, turned his mocking smile on Cain. “Your father isn’t here, sweetheart. He can’t save you from me. How brave are you with no one to stand in front of you?”

Cain wisely didn’t answer.

But Bas saw Alexei turn his attention on Cort next, and knew he had to do something to distract him. The gun in Cort’s hand might be their only hope.

“You know they’re coming for you!” Bas said. It sounded like a cheesy line from a movie, but it worked. Beside him, Drew froze in place, and Bas could feel the angry disbelief radiating off him as Alexei turned to glower at Bas.

“Ah! Ah, ah, ah,” he said, punctuating each syllable with a jab of the gun. “Sebastian Seaver. Of course! You’re the one who caused all of this trouble in the first place, you and your father. A pair of geniuses, and I’ll have killed you both.” He smiled, almost pleasantly. “Does that make me smarter than both of you?”

Bas set his jaw, but didn’t answer.

Alexei turned the gun on Drew. “I said, Sebastian, does that make me smarter than you?”

“Yes,” Bas said quickly. “Much.”

If the man really thought Bas’s pride was more important than Drew, he was a bigger idiot than Bas had imagined.

Alexei smiled. “You hear that, batya?” he said, still staring at Bas. “I’ve outsmarted two geniuses. Does that please you?” When Ilya didn’t respond, didn’t even lift his head, Alexei turned and took two strides across the floor, lifting his father’s head by the hair. “I said, ‘Does that please you?’”

For just a second, Alexei’s rage made him incautious. He turned his back to them, and Cort brought out his gun to take aim.

But Alexei was holding Ilya’s head, forcing him to look up, and when he saw the gun in Cort’s hand, his eyes widened. It was the smallest flinch of movement, but it was enough to alert Alexei.

He turned and fired without missing a beat, and Cort cried out as a red stain blossomed on the front of his shirt and his gun skittered across the floor.

“Cort!” As Cort sank to his knees, Cam sank with him, pressing his hands to the wound in Cort’s side.

Damon sank to the floor on his other side, but Alexei brandished the gun in his direction, elbow locked, and Damon stood again, holding his hands in front of him.

“Jesus,” Bas breathed, moving his body to block Drew’s.

“You see what you’ve done?” Alexei said, looking at Bas. “You see? You made me shoot him. You did that.”

Bas swallowed, not arguing. “You are nothing, Sebastian. You deserve nothing. You forced my hand, time and again. Refusing to work with me, disrespecting me. You made my father betray me. You took everything from me.”

He shook his head frantically, eyes wild.

Down on the floor, Cam began sobbing. “Stay with me! Kendrick Cortland, if you love me, stay with me.”

Alexei smiled at Bas and turned the gun on Drew. “And now I’ll take everything from you.” He shrugged almost apologetically. “That will even the score.”

“Mister McMann,” Alexei called. “Step away.”

Drew moved, but just as quickly Bas moved to block him. “Don’t you dare, Andrew!” he warned.

“Move, now,” Alexei said. “Or I’ll shoot both of you.”

Drew pushed Bas, forcing him aside and pinning him against the wall with the back of his arm when Bas made to move in front of him again. “Enough, Bas! Enough.”

“So brave,” Alexei mused regretfully, aiming the gun at Drew’s head. “It almost makes me sorry to do this to you, McMann. But you picked the wrong man to fall in love with.”

Drew’s eyes widened as they all realized that Alexei wasn’t bluffing this time.

Bas struggled against Drew’s hold, trying to wriggle in front of him, but Drew held him back with a strength Bas hadn’t known he possessed.

“No,” he told Alexei. “I didn’t.” He turned to look at Bas one last time, his brown eyes resigned and full of love. “I picked the best possible man. And I have loved him my entire life.”

“No,” Bas screamed. “No!”

He bent his knees, ducking beneath Drew’s arm and freeing himself just as the pistol crack echoed across the small space.