The storm continued roaring outside, thunder rattling the steel ribs of the abandoned warehouse as if the sky itself were warning them to turn back. Lightning split through the shattered window frames, illuminating the narrow service tunnel Adrian led Elara into. The air was colder here, thick with the scent of wet concrete and rust. Their footsteps echoed, soft but tense, as if the walls themselves were listening.
Elara hugged her arms around her body as she followed him. Her pulse was still sprinting from the last ambush, but another feeling lingered beneath the adrenaline—an uncomfortable, magnetic pull toward Adrian that she kept fighting, and failing.
He walked ahead with sharp, calculated purpose, each movement deliberate, controlled, lethal. There was no hesitation in him, no fear, no uncertainty. Adrian Vale moved like a man who had lived his whole life inside danger, and danger had learned to obey him.
And Elara, against all logic, felt safer near him than she should.
"This way," Adrian murmured, glancing back at her. His voice was low, almost swallowed by the storm. "There's a safe room at the east wing. Reinforced steel walls. No entry points except one. We hold there until I figure out who sent those men."
"You still don't know?" Elara asked, her breath shaky.
His jaw tightened. "I have theories. None that I like."
He didn't say more. He didn't need to. There was a heaviness in his silence that made her stomach twist. Whatever he suspected, it wasn't small. It wasn't random.
And it wasn't good for her.
As they moved through the narrow corridor, Elara's fingers brushed a cold metal pipe. "Is this place even stable?"
"No," Adrian said bluntly. "But it's the best option we have."
He stopped suddenly, one hand lifting as a silent command. Elara froze. She didn't breathe. Adrian tilted his head slightly, listening. His body tensed, muscles drawn tight beneath his fitted shirt.
"What is it?" she whispered.
He slowly turned his head toward her, his eyes dark and unreadable. "You."
She blinked. "Me?"
Adrian stepped closer, too close. Her breath caught as he reached out and brushed his thumb across her cheek. Not gently—experimentally, as though testing something he didn't yet understand.
"You're shaking."
"I'm fine," she lied.
"No, you're terrified." His voice softened in a way that made her chest tighten. "But not just of them."
Her heart stuttered. The corridor felt too small. Too intimate. His presence too overwhelming.
Elara stepped back, but the wall blocked her. Adrian didn't close the distance again, but he didn't move away either. He watched her the way someone watches a line of text they know is hiding something between the words.
"Don't read me," she whispered.
He held her gaze. "Then stop looking at me like that."
She felt heat rush up her neck. "Like what?"
"Like you're trying to decide if I'm the storm that's going to destroy you," he murmured, "or the shelter you want to run into."
She inhaled sharply. "Adrian—"
A clatter echoed through the tunnel. Metal hitting concrete. Both their heads snapped toward the sound. Adrian grabbed her wrist, pulling her behind him before she could react.
"Move," he hissed.
He led her down the corridor at a controlled sprint. His grip was tight, almost bruising, but grounding. She didn't complain. Right now, she needed the contact. Needed the certainty in his steps.
They reached a reinforced steel door. Adrian punched in a code, the keypad flickering dimly. The door groaned open.
Inside was a bare room. Concrete walls. A single hanging light. A metal table and two chairs. No windows. No exits besides the door they had entered.
A trap, Elara thought.
Adrian shoved the door closed, sealing it with the manual lock. Only when the heavy click echoed through the room did he finally exhale.
"For now…" he said quietly, "…we're safe."
Elara took in the room, tension knotting in her chest. "This is your safe room? It looks like an interrogation chamber."
Adrian didn't deny it. He stared at her for a moment, as though deciding how much truth she deserved.
"It used to be one," he said at last.
The air shifted. The room felt colder.
"Used to be?" Elara pressed.
Adrian walked toward the metal table, resting his palms on it. For the first time since the night began, he looked… conflicted. A shadow crossed his face, deeper than any lightning could cast.
"Elara," he said slowly, "there's something I haven't told you."
Her breath caught. "What?"
He met her eyes, and she saw something she hadn't expected—regret.
"I know why they're after you."
Her blood ran cold. "What? Why didn't you—Adrian, what do they want with me?"
He didn't answer immediately. He took a deep breath, crossing his arms over his chest like he needed physical restraint to keep from reaching for her again.
Then he spoke.
"They think you have something. Something you don't even know you have."
Elara's eyebrows drew together. "I don't understand."
"You shouldn't," Adrian said. "Because none of this is supposed to involve you. You were never supposed to be dragged into my world. But someone used you… someone planted something on you… and now the people coming for you won't stop."
Elara shook her head, backing away a step. "This doesn't make sense."
Adrian pushed off the table and walked toward her, slow, controlled. "It will."
His fingers slipped into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a small, black device, no larger than a coin, sealed in a transparent plastic cover.
Elara stared at it. "What is that?"
"This," Adrian said, "was stitched into the lining of your coat."
Her heart thudded. "My coat? Adrian, I—who would—"
"Someone who wants you dead," he said sharply. "Or someone who wants to use you as bait."
She felt the floor tilt beneath her. "Bait… for who?"
Adrian's jaw worked as he fought for composure. "For me."
The room went silent.
Elara's breath hitched. "Me? Why—why would anyone use me to get to you?"
His gaze hardened. "Because they know I'll protect you."
Her heart hammered against her ribs. "You barely know me."
"I know enough," he said, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "Enough to know I won't let them touch you."
Elara's knees weakened. She forced herself to keep standing.
"This is insane," she whispered. "Why me? I'm nothing special. I live alone, I work, I—"
"Someone marked you," Adrian cut in. "And not by accident."
He moved closer, slowly, giving her room to step away if she wanted. She didn't move.
"They wanted to draw me out," Adrian murmured. "And it worked."
Elara pressed her back to the wall. "Who are they?"
"People I've spent years escaping," Adrian said. "People who want what I took from them."
"And what did you take?" she asked.
His eyes locked onto hers. "Freedom."
The word held weight, darkness, history. And danger.
Elara swallowed hard. "So I'm involved because… someone thinks I'm connected to you?"
"You are connected to me," he said quietly. "You became connected the moment they chose you."
She felt a spark of something—fear, longing, confusion—all tangled into one.
"Why didn't you tell me this earlier?" she whispered.
Adrian's voice dropped, raw and honest. "Because once I told you… once you understood what this meant… you would never be able to walk away."
Elara's chest tightened. "And now?"
Adrian moved closer until he stood just inches away, his breath brushing her skin.
"Now," he murmured, "you can't walk away even if you try."
Her pulse pounded. "I didn't choose any of this."
"I know." He raised a hand, but paused before touching her cheek. "But I will fix it. I will end this. I will protect you, Elara. And not because someone wants to use you against me."
His eyes darkened.
"But because I want to."
The air between them pulsed. The storm outside raged on, but inside the room, the tension burned hotter than lightning.
Elara's voice trembled. "Protecting me… that's not your job."
"No," Adrian whispered, "it's not my job. It's my choice."
Her breath hitched. "Why?"
His answer was a whisper—a confession, a warning.
"Because I can't stop wanting to keep you safe. Even when I know I shouldn't."
The words sent heat gushing through her body. She looked away, overwhelmed. "Adrian…"
Before she could say more, a violent bang slammed against the steel door, followed by another—louder, deliberate, forceful.
Adrian's head snapped toward the door. His hand dropped to the pistol at his hip.
"They found us."
Elara's blood froze.
Adrian stepped forward, positioning his body between her and the door. His voice was cold steel.
"No matter what happens," he said, "you stay behind me."
The door groaned as something heavy struck it from the outside. Twice. Three times. The steel shook, dust falling from the ceiling.
Elara pressed a trembling hand against the wall, eyes locked on the door. "Adrian—"
The fourth strike dented the metal.
Adrian drew his weapon, stance lethal.
"Elara," he said without looking back, "do you trust me?"
Thunder cracked above them.
The door bent inward.
Her voice shook.
"Yes."
And the door exploded open.