Chapter 4 - Shadows at the Window
The fragile peace of the kitchen shattered with a dull, heavy thud against the front door.
Adrian was on his feet before the echo had even faded. The softness in his face vanished instantly, replaced by the lethal, calculating coldness of a predator who lived behind enemy lines. In one fluid motion, he drew a suppressed automatic pistol from a shoulder holster beneath his coat.
“Stay down,” he commanded, pushing Emma behind the kitchen island and shoving me down beside her.
“What is it?” I whispered, my heart hammering against my ribs.
“Luca,” Adrian barked into a comms earpiece clipped to his collar. No response crackled back. Only static.
The front window shattered inward. Shards of glass rained across the living room rug.
A muffled shout echoed from the hallway, followed by the wet, sickening pop of a silenced gunshot. Oliver whimpered from the sofa, pulling the blanket over his head.
“Adrian—” I started, but he cut me off with a glare that could freeze fire.
“They tracked my SUV,” Adrian said, his voice terrifyingly calm. “They knew Oliver’s phone was active. They followed us here.”
“Who?”
“The Russian syndicate,” Adrian muttered, checking the magazine of his weapon. “Vasiliev’s men. They’ve been waiting for a crack in my perimeter. Tonight, they found it.”
“My apartment is compromised,” I breathed, panic clawing at my throat. “My life here—everything I built—it’s gone.”
“Your life here ended the second my son walked through your door, Sophia,” Adrian said, pulling a second weapon from his belt and pressing it firmly into my hand. His fingers wrapped over mine, steadying my grip. “Can you still shoot?”
May you like
The cold steel of the Glock felt familiar, terrifyingly so. Six years ago, I had practiced at his private range in upstate New York until my palms blistered.
“Like it was yesterday,” I whispered.
