Chapter 23 Adrian
ADRIAN
Iblink awake, the sunlight on my face.
I stare at the ceiling. Elena is warm against my chest, her breath steady and even for the first time since I found her.
She must have finally fallen into a deep sleep, not the fitful, nightmare-plagued kind where she jerks awake every few minutes.
So I must have passed out too.
Her dark hair fans across my arm, and I don't dare move. Every muscle in my body is tense, locked in place, because if I shift even slightly, I might wake her, and she needs this.
My mind drifts back to last night. The way she kissed me. The way she tasted.
It's a happy thought that doesn't last too long as something else claws its way to the surface.
Cornel Lupu.
I need to find out who the fuck this person is, hunt him down, and make him suffer.
Elena stirs slightly, her fingers letting go of me, and she shifts to laying flat on her back. I freeze, waiting, but she doesn't wake.
Then a sound echoes from the living room, a soft thud, like someone setting something down on the table.
My body goes rigid instantly, every nerve firing at once.
I slip out of bed as carefully as I can, easing my arm out from under Elena's head and replacing it with a pillow. She shifts slightly, murmuring something unintelligible, but she doesn't wake.
I grab my gun from the nightstand and move toward the door, my feet silent on the wood floor.
The hallway is dim, the morning light not quite reaching this far, and I press my back against the wall, gun raised, my pulse steady and controlled.
I hear another sound, a soft rustle, like fabric moving, and I step into the living room, weapon aimed at the figure standing near the table.
Victor turns, one eyebrow raised, a paper bag in his hand.
"Jesus, brother," I say, lowering the gun.
Victor smiles. "Good morning to you, too."
I exhale, setting the gun on the counter, and Victor's gaze flicks past me, down the hallway toward the bedroom.
"Seems you two are rekindling things then?" he asks, his tone light.
"Something like that," I say, moving to a chair and sitting down.
Victor sets the bag on the table, and I catch the scent of fresh bread.
"Hey," I say, leaning back in the chair. "Does the name Cornel Lupu mean anything to you?"
Victor's hand stills over the bag, and he looks up at me, his expression shifting from casual to focused.
"Sure," he says slowly. "Lupu is a wealthy, politically connected businessman based out of Cluj."
I nod, leaning forward. "Go on."
Victor leans against the wall, crossing his arms.
"He's been in the game for years," Victor says. "Real estate, logistics, shipping. On paper, he's clean, of course. Off paper, he moves product for a lot of people, drugs, weapons, assets."
My pulse quickens. "Assets?"
"Sure," Victor says. "But not like that. He's not a trafficker. He's a facilitator. He provides logistics, transportation, safe routes. He doesn't touch the merchandise himself. He just makes sure it gets where it needs to go."
I stare at him, my mind racing.
Elena heard Maxim mention Lupu's name. Over and over. Especially in the beginning.
Which means Lupu could have helped move her.
Which also means he's dead.
Victor's voice interrupts my thoughts. "Why are you asking about him?"
I meet his gaze. "Elena thinks he's involved."
Victor's expression shifts, and he arches an eyebrow. "Involved how?"
"Like he's the one responsible for everything. She heard Maxim mention his name," I say. "Multiple times. She herself met him during her kidnapping."
Victor's brow furrows, and he shakes his head slowly.
"Adrian, that's not possible."
I tense up, my right hand forming a fist. "She's not lying."
"I didn't say she was," Victor says, raising his hands slightly. "But you need to understand something. Cornel Lupu is a good ally. He works closely with Father and other leaders in our world. He wouldn't overstep. It would mean suicide for him. He's been part of our network for years."
The words hit me like a slap, and I stare at him.
"What?"
"He's one of our father's most trusted associates," Victor says. "Matei even used him to set up the LA expansion. He's the one who secured the shipping routes to get our stuff to Ares Kastaris."
I stand abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor.
"So what, you're telling me our father's friend was involved in Elena's kidnapping?"
"I'm telling you that doesn't make sense," Victor says, his voice calm but firm. "Why would Lupu burn a decades-long alliance with our family to help the Volkovs traffic one woman?"
"Because he's a piece of shit," I say.
"Maybe," Victor says. "Or maybe Elena got the name wrong. She was drugged, Adrian. You said it yourself. Her memories are fractured."
I shake my head, rage simmering under my skin. "No. Not about this. She saw him. Heard the name. Multiple times."
Victor exhales slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Okay. Fine. Then pull up a picture of him online and show it to Elena. Make absolutely sure she has the right guy before we start burning bridges within our father's network."
I open my mouth to argue, but Victor cuts me off.
"Relax, brother," he says, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "I'm not saying she's wrong. I'm saying make sure. That's all."
Despite every muscle in my body tensing, I force myself to nod.
"Fine."
Victor lets out a breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "Good."
I sit back down, rubbing a hand over my face, and the silence stretches between us.
Finally, I look up at him. "What are you doing here? What's going on?"
Victor pushes off the counter and gestures to the bag on the table.
"Stopped by to drop off some supplies," he says. "Food, coffee, a few other things. Figured you two could use it."
I glance at the bag, then back at him. "And?"
"And I have to head out to meet our pilot," Victor says. "We're finalizing the clearance papers with the local police, getting all of us out of this fucking place."
Relief floods through me, sharp and sudden. "When?"
"Soon," Victor says. "Probably another day at most. Just stay put. Don't leave. I'll come back for you when everything's ready."
I nod, and Victor moves toward the door, pulling his coat on.
He pauses at the threshold, glancing back at me.
"Twenty-four to forty-eight hours, and then we're back in Transylvania."
I look up.
"I'm never coming back here."
Victor shakes his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
"Me either," he says, and then he's gone, the door clicking shut behind him.
The house falls silent, and I sit there for a long moment, staring at the closed door.
Then I pull out my phone and open the browser, typing Cornel Lupu's name into the search bar.
The screen loads, and a series of images appear: professional headshots, photos from galas and business summits, a few candid shots from charity events.
I click on one, enlarging it, and stare at the face staring back at me.
Cornel Lupu is in his late fifties, with gray hair slicked back, sharp cheekbones, and cold, calculating eyes. He's wearing a suit in the photo, standing beside the Romanian president at some black-tie event.
I'm surprised I don't recognize him or the name. You'd think with the expansion in LA I would have been looped in. It's not like I was entirely coherent, but still, I didn't think I was that bad.
I memorize every line of his face, committing it to memory, because if Elena confirms it's him, I don't care who he is or what president he's standing next to or what he means to my father, for that matter, he's fucking dead.
My phone buzzes in my hand as Matei's name flashes across the screen.
I answer, bringing the phone to my ear. "Yeah."
"Adrian," Matei's voice comes through. "How is she?"
I lean back in the chair, exhaling slowly. "Sleeping. Finally."
"Good," Matei says. "That's good."
There's a pause, and I can hear the faint hum of traffic in the background.
"How's Jordan?" I ask, shifting the conversation.
"She's fine," Matei says. "She's just worried about you two."
"Thanks. Hey, listen," I say, my voice dropping. "The Volkovs gave her Siberian Ice."
There's a beat of silence on the other end, and then Matei's voice comes back sharp.
"How much?"
"Enough to keep her compliant for eighteen months," I say. "She's been off it for a few days now. The withdrawal was bad, but something of note. They gave it to her in pill form."
"Pill?" he asks.
"Yeah, we've never seen it like that before."
"No. Jesus," Matei says, and I hear him exhale. "Okay. We'll figure it out. But right now, just focus on getting her back to Romania. We'll handle the rest. I'll be flying out once you guys are back."
"Yeah," I say, rubbing a hand over my face. "Yeah, okay."
"Adrian."
I pause. "What?"
"You know I'm no good at compliments, but you did good," Matei says. "You found her and brought her back. That's all that matters."
I swallow hard. "Thanks," I say.
"Keep her safe," Matei says. "And I'll see you soon."
"Take care, brother," I say, and hang up.
I set the phone on the table, and then I hear a soft creak of a floorboard behind me.
I turn to see Elena standing there, smiling. The smile that's uniquely hers.
And for a moment, the heavy mafia business mindset that's been consuming me since Victor left evaporates completely, and all I see is her.
The beautiful woman walking toward me. The woman I thought I'd lost forever. The woman I will burn the world down to protect.
She moves closer, and I push the chair back, making room for her.
"Hey," she says, her voice still rough with sleep.
"Hey," I say, my throat tight.
She stops in front of me, her gaze flicking to the phone on the table, then back to my face.
"You okay?" she asks.
I nod, reaching for her hand. "Yeah. I'm okay."
She lets me pull her closer, and I wrap my arms around her waist.
For a moment, we just stay like that, and it's peaceful.
"Victor was here," I say after a moment, pulling back to look up at her. "He brought supplies. Said we're getting out of here soon."
Elena's eyes widen slightly. "Really?"
"Yeah," I say. "A day, maybe less, hopefully. Then we're going home."
She exhales, and I see the relief wash over her face.
"Good," she whispers. "I want to go home."
I squeeze her waist gently, and she looks down at me, her fingers brushing through my hair.
"So, does that mean we have the place to ourselves?" she asks with a smile.
I look around. "Yep."
"Perfect," she says, and takes both my hands and puts them on her breasts.
"Fuck me."