Chapter 14 – Adrian
The moment we get close to the east wing, I know this isn’t random.
Smoke curls up into the sky like a goddamn warning. My heart pounds against my ribs—not with fear, but with fury. I tighten my grip on Jennie’s hand and push forward through the chaos. The marble floor is scattered with debris. The scent of burning chemicals stings the back of my throat.
Zalar is already there, barking orders at two of our men trying to douse the flames licking up one of the walls. The explosion tore through the corridor—blasted a hole straight through centuries-old stone like it was paper.
“What the hell happened?” I shout, storming forward.
Zalar turns, his face covered in grime, eyes wide. “Bomb. Planted inside—detonated remotely.”
Jennie gasps behind me. I feel her hand shaking, but she doesn’t let go. She’s strong—stronger than she realizes.
I’m about to speak when another blast tears through the east corridor.
Smaller, but too close.
Heat slams into me, followed by a deafening roar and a wall of smoke. I twist around, throwing my body over Jennie’s before the impact tosses us to the floor like rag dolls. We hit hard—dust and rubble raining down.
My back aches from the fall. Ears ringing. The smoke is thick, disorienting.
“Jennie?” I cough.
“I’m okay!” she wheezes.
I roll off her and help her sit up, shielding her from falling debris with my body. Through the dust cloud, I can barely make out Zalar limping toward us.
“I think they’re gone,” he pants. “Two timed blasts. No more signals on the scanner.”
My blood boils. Someone got into my estate. Someone touched my home. And they did it knowing I had her here.
“This wasn’t just a hit,” I mutter, my jaw clenched. “This was a message.”
I turn to look at Jennie. Her eyes are wide, terrified, but still locked on mine like she’s trying to steady herself with me. I reach out and cup the side of her face, brushing off soot.
“I’ve got you,” I say. “You’re safe.”
But inside, I’m seething.
Whoever’s behind this just made the biggest mistake of their life.
I slide my arm around her waist and pull her up from the wreckage. She’s coughing, her whole body trembling from the shock. There’s dust in her hair, ash on her skin—and blood.
Blood.
On her lip.
It’s a thin smear, probably from where she bit down during the fall, but it sets something off inside me.
My vision narrows.
Not now.
First, I get her out. Then I burn whoever did this.
I turn to Zalar. “Handle it. Secure the east wing. I want every inch swept. Inside, outside. Drones, infrared, scanners—everything.”
Zalar nods, already giving rapid-fire orders into his comms. “I’ll handle this, Boss.”
I don’t answer. I shift Jennie more tightly into my arms and carry her myself, away from the smoke, down the corridor, away from the fucking war zone someone just lit up in my house.
She coughs again and winces. “I’m okay,” she whispers, voice hoarse.
“No, you’re not.”
“I can walk,” she mumbles against my chest. “I’m too heavy.”
I huff a humorless breath, my jaw tight. “I don’t work out so my wife has to walk.”
She lifts her head just enough to glance up at me, her brows drawn. I tighten my grip, holding her closer.
“I can carry you very easily,” I say. “So shut up and let me.”
I walk us down the back hall, through a hidden entrance tucked behind one of the library shelves.
The fingerprint scanner beeps softly, and the heavy steel door to the panic room swings open.
It’s not some cold, metal cage—it’s a fortress, but one lined with thick rugs, polished wood, plush furnishings, and a king-sized bed with a silk throw folded neatly at the end.
Jennie’s never seen it before, and I built it for this exact reason—to keep my family safe when the world goes to hell.
I take her straight to the bed and set her down gently.
She leans back, watching me like she doesn’t know what to say.
I crouch in front of her, brushing a streak of ash from her cheek with my thumb. Her skin is warm beneath all that dust. Still alive. Still mine.
“You don’t get to die,” I say, my voice low and firm. “Not now. Not ever.”
She stares at me, lips parting just a little.
“You are mine.”
And if they want you—
They’ll have to come through me.
I remember there’s so much work to do, and kiss her cheek before starting to pull away. “You’re safe here,” I say. “Nothing can touch you. I’ll kill anyone who tries.”
She shakes her head, breath stuttering. “Don’t leave me here alone.”
“I have to go handle—”
“Adrian.” She grabs my wrist. Her voice is small, choked. “Please don’t leave me.”
That stops me.
She’s not being dramatic. She’s not using it to get her way. She’s genuinely afraid.
I sit beside her. I shouldn’t. I need to be out there. But right now, she needs me more.
She leans into me, forehead resting against my chest. I pull her in, wrapping my arms around her tightly.
“You’re okay,” I murmur against her hair. “You’re okay. You’re strong. You didn’t break when everything around you exploded. You’re a goddamn warrior, do you know that?”
Her body trembles once, twice—then goes still.
“I’m not,” she whispers. “I’m not as strong as you are.”
Her expression breaks me, and before I can stop myself, I crash my lips to hers, holding her to me like she’s the most precious possession in my life.
She is.
She melts into my arms, and as the kiss deepens, I taste the metallic tang of blood. I suck deeper and smoothen the flesh with my tongue.
She moans and clings to me like I’m a lifeline. For her, I can be anything in the world.
“Adrian.” She pulls away slightly, her eyes glassy. “Make love to me, Adrian. Please.”
I want to. Oh, fuck, I want to. But after what just happened, I’m more concerned with her feelings and well-being.
“Jennie, you should—”
“Please. I need you.”
Her plea breaks something open inside me.
I don’t ask again if she’s sure.
I don’t need to.
I see it in her eyes—the storm, the longing, the desperate need to feel alive after staring death in the face. She’s not running from fear. She’s running to me.
So I lay her back slowly, reverently, brushing the dust from her clothes, from her hair, like I’m uncovering something holy. The chaos outside still rages, but here—here in this room, in this moment—there’s only her.
Jennie.
My wife.
Her fingers curl around my collar as I bend to kiss her again—slow this time, deliberate. A promise. A prayer. Her lips part, and I taste her breath, warm and shaking against mine.
I push her hair back gently and kiss her jaw, her neck, the hollow of her throat, and every spot that reminds her she’s alive. That she’s wanted. Her body arches toward me, eager and trusting, and I hold her like something sacred. Not fragile—but real.
She touches my face, palm soft against my cheek, and I let her pull me closer until there’s no space between us—no doubt, no past, no war, just skin and breath and need.
I take my time with her.
There’s no rush.
No power struggle.
Only reverence.
I kiss away the ash on her skin. I trace the lines of her body like she’s something I’ve been fighting for my whole life.
Soon, our clothes are gone, and our naked bodies merge, warm and fiery passion bridling between us. When I slowly sink into her heat, she cries out, tears falling from her face.
I freeze.
“Don’t stop, Adrian,” she moans, wrapping her legs around my waist, taking me deeper. A guttural groan escapes my lips, and I hold her tight, like I want her soul to merge with mine.
“It feels good, Adrian,” she cries.
“Yes.” I heighten the speed of my thrusts, pounding into her with abandon. She takes each one with vigor, meeting me halfway and moaning every time our bodies slap.
I lean down to kiss her eyes, lapping her tears with my tongue. By the time she cries out my name, I’m tumbling after her in an orgasm of my own. It’s the best sex I’ve ever had.
When it’s over, I don’t move. I stay wrapped around her, her head resting on my chest, our bodies tangled together in silence.
There are still fires and enemies outside this room. But for now, she’s safe with me. And I’m not going anywhere.
She falls asleep in my arms.
I don’t know when the trembling stops or when her breathing evens out. I only realize she’s asleep when her fingers go slack against my chest, her head heavy beneath my chin.
Something cracks in me.
She’s finally calm—after all the hell I’ve dragged her through—and all I can think about is how fragile she feels. How small. How breakable.
I don’t move. I don’t even blink. I just sit there, holding her like she might shatter if I let go.
Watching her. Memorizing the shape of her mouth, the lashes curled against her cheek, the faint line between her brows that’s still there even in sleep.
Like she doesn’t know how to stop fighting, even now.
My phone buzzes quietly in my pocket. It’s Zalar.
“Boss. You copy?”
I shift slightly, keeping one arm around her as I hold it to my ear.
“Yeah,” I murmur, voice low. “I copy.”
Zalar’s voice cuts through. “Is everything alright in there?”
I glance down at Jennie. She doesn’t stir. Her hand is curled against my chest like a question. Like trust.
“Everything’s fine,” I say. “I’ll be out in a moment.”
There’s a pause, then, “We found the trigger source. The explosives were planted from inside. Definitely someone on the payroll.”
I close my eyes.
Of course.
I’m furious—but I’m not surprised. I’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop since the moment Jennie found that note on her dresser. We already knew whoever did it was an insider, and we’ve been waiting patiently for them to make a big move.
Still, hearing it confirmed—that someone under my roof, on my watch, dared to touch what’s mine—makes something cold and sharp settle in my gut.
“I’ll handle it,” I say into the radio. “No one makes a move until I say.”
“Understood.”
The line clicks off. I put the phone down. But I don’t get up. Not yet.
Because right now, I’ve got something more important in my arms.
My phone buzzes again. It’s Lukin.
Of course. I’ve been expecting his nosy ass to call.
I ease out from under Jennie, careful not to wake her. She stirs a little, her lips parting, but she doesn’t open her eyes. I stand over her for a beat longer, just looking, then pull the blanket over her and turn toward the door, putting on my discarded clothes as I go.
Outside the panic room, I find two of my most trusted men waiting.
“No one goes in,” I say, my voice low but sharp. “She doesn’t lift a finger without one of you watching her. You protect her with your lives.”
They nod in unison. “Yes, Boss.”
I walk away, down the hall that still carries the faint stench of smoke and rubble. My phone is still buzzing. I finally swipe to answer.
“Lukin,” I say, my tone tight.
“Adrian,” he says without preamble. “What the fuck happened? I got word about the explosion.”
“I’ve got it handled.”
“That wasn’t the question, Adrian.”
“I’m not a child, Lukin. I don’t need you checking in every time there’s a little noise on the estate.”
“That ‘little noise’ was a fucking bomb, Adrian,” he snaps. “I have ears everywhere, and this one set off alarm bells.”
I clench my jaw. “I’m capable of handling my shit.”
“Just remember you’re not alone in this anymore. You’ve got a wife now. That changes things.”
I stop at the end of the hall, pressing a hand to the wall to steady myself. I hate how he’s right. I hate how those words—you’ve got a wife now—make something shift in my chest.
“I know what I’m doing,” I tell him. “Let me deal with it.”
“You’d better,” Lukin says. “Because if this inside job goes deeper than you think, you’ll need to be ten steps ahead. For her sake.”
I don’t say anything. I end the call.
Because deep down, I know he’s right again. And that only makes my fury burn hotter.
Someone inside is playing a very dangerous game.
And I’m going to burn them alive for it.