Chapter 2 - Shadows of the Past"Move!" Adrian barked, slamming a hidden toggle on the bookshelf. The heavy timber groaned and slid inward, revealing a dark, stone-lined corridor illuminated by emergency red strips. "Take the boy down to the panic room. Lock the steel bulkhead from the inside. Do not open it for anyone—not even me—unless you hear the three-tap code."
"I am not running away while you fight a war meant for both of us," I said, my voice hardening. The timid, desperate girl who signed a surrogate contract twenty-one days ago vanished, replaced by the daughter of Don Gabriel Romano. I reached into my coat, sliding a small, wicked stiletto blade—a blade my mother had taught me to conceal in my garter—into my palm.
Adrian stared at me, a flicker of fierce admiration burning in his eyes. "You really are his daughter."
"Go," I said, stepping into the passageway, but instead of retreating, I handed the baby carrier gently to his trembling hands. "Hold our son, Adrian. Keep him safe. Because I am going to help you butcher the men who hunted my family."
Before he could argue, the library door flew off its hinges.
Smoke billowed into the room. Three mercenaries clad in tactical black gear, their faces hidden behind night-vision balaclavas, swarmed into the space. Their assault rifles swept the room, lasers painting the walls red.
Adrian didn’t hesitate. From his seated position, he emptied his magazine with ruthless, surgical precision. The first two mercenaries dropped instantly, hit squarely in the chest through their Kevlar vests.
The third mercenary roared, bringing his rifle around to bear on Adrian.
I didn't think. Years of watching my mother practice defensive drills in rundown motels took over. I lunged from the shadow of the secret door, my stiletto flashing in the dim emergency light. I slammed into the mercenary's side, driving the blade deep beneath his tactical vest into the soft tissue of his kidney.
He gasped, dropping his weapon as shock paralyzed his nervous system. I twisted the blade, shoved him hard against the mahogany desk, and watched him collapse unconscious.
Adrian lowered his smoking gun, staring at me with a mixture of shock and utter adoration.
"Remind me," Adrian said softly, a dark smile playing on his lips, "never to get on your bad side."
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"You already did," I replied, catching my breath. "You bought me for five million dollars."
"That," Adrian said, gripping the wheels of his chair to turn toward the corridor, "was the best investment I ever made."
