Chapter 6 - The Siege of ManhattanBy midnight, the storm outside had escalated into a full-blown nor’easter, howling against the floor-to-ceiling glass windows of the penthouse. Inside, the atmosphere was even more tempestuous.
Downstairs, the perimeter sensors flashed silent amber warnings. Across the East River, intelligence reports flooded Leo’s private terminal: Viktor’s men were moving. Three black vans had been spotted heading toward the Manhattan bridge, armed and looking for blood.
Chloe sat on the edge of the master bed, staring blankly at the rain streaking down the glass. Danny and Mila were locked in the secure panic room down the hall, too terrified to make a sound.
The bedroom door clicked open.
Leo walked in. He had discarded his jacket and tie. His black shirt was unbuttoned at the top, revealing the sharp hollow of his throat, and a heavy tactical holster was strapped securely across his broad chest. He looked every inch the wartime general.
“Are they here?” Chloe asked, her voice barely a whisper.
“Not yet,” Leo said, walking over to the bed. He sat down beside her, the mattress dipping under his weight. He reached out, taking her cold hand in his warm, calloused palm. “My men have intercepted their vanguard at the Triborough Bridge. Viktor’s operation will be crippled before sunrise.”
“And Danny?”
“Danny stays in the safehouse until the child is born,” Leo said firmly. “After that, he is being put on a private flight to South America with enough cash to start over, under strict instructions never to set foot in North America again.”
Chloe closed her eyes, letting out a long, shuddering breath. “I’m sorry, Leo. I never meant to bring this war to your doorstep.”
“You didn't bring it,” Leo said, his thumb stroking the back of her hand. “It was already waiting for me. The old families have been testing my boundaries for months. Using your brother was just their opening move.”
He shifted closer. With gentle, deliberate care, Leo placed his hand flat against her stomach. The green silk of her lounge wear stretched slightly over the firm, rounded swell of five months of life growing within her.
Beneath his palm, a tiny, sudden thud registered.
Leo froze. His dark eyes widened fractionally.
“Did you feel that?” Chloe whispered, a sudden, watery smile breaking through her exhaustion.
“Yes,” Leo breathed, his entire body going completely still.
Another tiny kick—stronger this time. Their child, acknowledging the chaos of the night with a defiant little nudge against their father’s hand.
A rare, profoundly tender expression crossed Leo’s face, washing away the cold ruthlessness of the crime lord and leaving only the man. He leaned down, pressing his forehead gently against Chloe’s belly right where his hand rested.
“Don't worry,” Leo murmured softly against the silk, speaking directly to the child. “Your father owns this city. No one is going to touch you.”
Chloe’s heart swelled, aching with a terrifying, overwhelming emotion she had sworn she would never allow herself to feel. She was falling in love with him. Deeply, irrevocably, and against all logic.
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Suddenly, a loud, muffled boom echoed from somewhere deep within the lower levels of the building.
Leo’s head snapped up. The tender father vanished in a millisecond, replaced by the apex predator.
