Inside the cabin, the atmosphere was thick enough to cut with a knife.
Mia had finally fallen asleep, curled up with her stuffed elephant across the back seat, her head resting safely in my lap. I stroked her dark curls, my eyes fixed on Adrian, who sat across from me in the dim interior light.
He was sharpening the edge of a custom folding combat knife with a small whetstone, the rhythmic shhh-shhh sound filling the quiet car.
“You shouldn't have brought us,” I said quietly, keeping my voice low so as not to wake Mia. “We could have stayed at the mansion under guard. Why bring us into the middle of a warzone with Viktor Ivanov?”
Adrian stopped whetting the blade. He looked up, his ice-blue eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my breath catch.
“Because Viktor doesn't negotiate with proxies,” Adrian said evenly. “He wants to break me. He thinks by targeting you, he’s found my Achilles' heel. If I left you behind, he would send every assassin he has to hunt you down while I’m dealing with him. The only place you are safe, Elena, is directly behind me.”
“And if you fail?” I asked, the terrifying truth slipping past my lips. “What happens to Mia if Viktor wins?”
Adrian set the knife down, leaned forward, and placed his large, warm hand over mine. His grip was unyielding, solid as granite.
“I don't fail,” Adrian said, his voice a low, fierce promise. “I built this empire from nothing, and I survived every knife in the dark because I had nothing to lose. Now... I have everything to lose.”
He gently squeezed my fingers.
“When this is over, Elena, we are walking away from this city. I have properties in Tuscany, in the Swiss Alps, places where nobody knows the name Kane, where you don't have to clean floors, and where Mia can grow up in the sunlight. Just trust me.”
I stared at him, my heart hammering against my ribs. For two years, I had built walls around my heart, terrified of trusting anyone after the tragedy of my past. But looking into Adrian’s eyes—seeing the fierce, protective devotion of a man who had never known a family until a six-year-old girl told him he should be her daddy—I knew I had already fallen.
The Mercedes slowed to a halt.
We had arrived at City Hall Plaza.
Outside, the rain was pouring down in sheets, washing over the empty cobblestone square. In the center, illuminated by the harsh headlights of our convoy, stood Viktor Ivanov and six of his heavily armed men, waiting under a large black umbrella.
“Stay in the car,” Adrian commanded, opening his door.
“Adrian, no—”
“Stay in the car, Elena,” he repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument. He stepped out into the pouring rain, pulling his black trench coat tighter around his shoulders.
I pressed my face against the bulletproof window, my heart in my throat.
Viktor Ivanov—a bulky, scar-faced man with cold, dead eyes—smiled broadly as Adrian approached him.
“Adrian! You actually came,” Viktor shouted over the roar of the rain, his voice carrying across the plaza. “I thought the great capo would hide behind his mansion walls forever!”
“Cut the theatricals, Viktor,” Adrian’s voice echoed sharply. “You wanted to talk. We’re talking. Hand over the USB drive with the federal files, and I’ll let you walk out of this plaza alive.”
Viktor let out a harsh, mocking laugh. “Alive? You think you dictate terms to me, Kane? You brought a maid and a brat into your bed, and you think you’re invincible? You’re weak, Adrian! And weakness is fatal in our world!”
Before Viktor could finish his sentence, two of his men stepped out from behind a concrete pillar, raising their submachine guns directly toward the Mercedes where Mia and I sat.
A red laser dot danced across the passenger-side window.
Rage—hot, blinding, and absolute—surged through Adrian Kane.
In a fraction of a second, Adrian drew his weapon with terrifying speed.
Bang. Bang.
Two precise shots rang out through the rain. Viktor’s two gunmen dropped instantly, their weapons clattering against the wet cobblestones.
Before Viktor could even raise his own pistol, Adrian crossed the distance between them with the explosive speed of a striking viper. He grabbed Viktor by the lapels of his designer coat, slammed him back against the stone pillar of City Hall, and pressed the cold barrel of his Sig Nexter directly under Viktor’s chin.
“You missed your window, Viktor,” Adrian whispered, his voice carrying a lethal, bone-chilling calm.
Around the square, the doors of our three SUVs flew open. Marcus and a dozen elite enforcers swarmed the plaza, disarming Viktor’s remaining men in seconds.
Viktor went entirely pale, his hands trembling as he stared down the barrel of Adrian’s gun. “A-Alright, Kane... take it easy. We can... we can make a deal—”
“The only deal you’re getting,” Adrian growled, pressing the barrel harder, “is a fast ticket to the bottom of the East River if you ever mention my family’s name again.”
He shoved Viktor backward into the arms of Marcus and his guards. “Take him away. Clean up the mess.”
Adrian stood alone in the center of the plaza for a moment, the rain soaking through his black shirt, his chest heaving as he caught his breath.
Then, slowly, he turned around and walked back toward the Mercedes.
He pulled open the door, stepping out of the rain into the warm interior. His dark hair was plastered to his forehead, and a small cut bled slightly near his temple, but as his eyes landed on me and a sleeping Mia, his expression softened into something profoundly gentle.
I reached out, taking a handkerchief from my pocket, and gently wiped the rain and blood from his temple.
“You’re bleeding,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion.
Adrian caught my hand, pressing his warm lips against my palm.
“It’s nothing,” he murmured, his eyes shining with a quiet, overwhelming relief. “It’s over, Elena. It’s finally over.”