Bang.

The sound was deafening inside the steel room. The recoil pushed Clara back a step, but she kept her grip tight.

Miller dropped his gun, clutching his leg where the bullet had shattered his knee. He collapsed to the floor, screaming in agony.

Victor Vance stared in shock. He hadn't expected the maid to actually shoot. He reached into his coat for his own weapon, his eyes flashing with lethal intent.

"You stupid b—"

Clara didn't wait for him to finish. She fired again.

The bullet struck Victor in the shoulder, spinning him around and knocking him into the doorframe. He slid down the wall, clutching his bleeding arm, shock registering on his aristocratic face.

Clara took a step forward, the gun still raised, smoke curling from the barrel. She stood tall, a protective fury radiating from her every pore.

"I told you," Clara said, her voice cold as ice. "Not one more step."