Chapter 10 - The Last Watch
The fire in the library hearth had burned down to a bed of glowing, ember-red coals, casting a warm, flickering amber light across the thousands of leather-bound books that lined the walls.
Adrian sat in his armchair, a blank leather journal open on his lap and a fountain pen poised above the cream-colored page. He didn't write about the corporate betrayal, or the federal raids, or Vivienne’s desperate greed, or the cold metal of Viktor’s submachine gun. Those things were already part of the past—dead, buried, and forgotten.
Instead, he looked down toward the hearth rug.
Bruno was stretched out full-length across the Persian wool, his massive paws twitching slightly as he dreamed of open fields and ancient hunts. Every few seconds, his tail gave a lazy, rhythmic thump against the floorboards.
Sofia, who had insisted on staying up late with her mother to check on the dog, was curled up fast asleep right beside Bruno, her small head resting comfortably against the mastiff’s warm, velvet shoulder. The giant dog didn't move an inch, carefully shifting his weight to make sure the child remained undisturbed, acting as an unyielding, unbreakable wall between her and the dark world outside.
Maria stood quietly in the doorway, a steaming mug of tea in her hand, watching the two of them with a soft, knowing smile.
“He’s not going to leave the rug tonight, is he?” she asked quietly.
Adrian looked up from his journal, a genuine, unforced smile touching his lips for the first time in months.
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“No, Maria,” Adrian said softly, dipping his pen into the inkwell. “He’s right where he belongs.”
He looked back down at the blank page, wrote a single sentence across the top line, and closed the book with a quiet, satisfying snap that echoed softly through the silent, thirty-two rooms of stone and polished wood.
