Chapter 4 - FIRE AND STEEL
The sharp, deafening cracks of semi-automatic gunfire shattered the grand foyer below. Glass exploded, and the heavy crystal chandelier in the hallway rattled violent vibrations down through the floorboards.
Hannah’s heart violently slammed against her ribs. Before she could scream, Adrien’s hand snapped around her wrist, pulling her down toward the floor behind the heavy mahogany desk. His voice lost all trace of exhaustion, replaced instantly by the icy, razor-sharp authority of a man who had survived a dozen turf wars.
"Stay low," Adrien commanded, his gray eyes flashing with lethal precision. "Under the desk. Do not move."
"Adrien, you can't stand—"
"I don't need to stand to kill someone, Hannah."
He reached beneath the armrest of his custom wheelchair, releasing a hidden compartment. In one fluid motion, he pulled out a black custom SIG Sauer P226. The heavy thud of footsteps echoed up the marble staircase—three men in tactical vests, heavily armed, faces covered in black masks.
The Moretti syndicate had finally struck at the Romano estate.
"Clear the top floor!" a coarse voice barked from the hallway. "Find Romano! Don't leave witnesses!"
Hannah pressed her back against the inner frame of the desk, her knees trembling as she watched Adrien. He didn't look like a man bound to a chair; he looked like an apex predator waiting in the shadows. He held his weapon with terrifying calm, tracking the sound of the approaching footsteps.
The first gunman kicked open the heavy oak doors of the rehabilitation room, weapon raised.
THUD. THUD.
Adrien fired twice without hesitation. The double-tap caught the intruder cleanly in the chest, dropping him instantly to the floor. The second gunman lunged into the doorway, spraying bullets across the room. Plaster exploded from the walls, shower-coating Hannah in dry white dust.
Adrien slammed his chair into motion, wheeling across the room with shocking speed to alter his angle, firing three precise shots. The second intruder slumped against the doorframe, dead before he hit the ground.
The third attacker, realizing he was outmatched, hurled a flashbang grenade into the room.
BANG!
A blinding flash and a deafening roar instantly neutralized the air. Hannah screamed as intense ringing filled her ears, white light blinding her vision. She heard the third gunman charge in, aiming his weapon directly at Adrien, who was momentarily disoriented by the flash.
"Die, you crippled bastard!" the gunman yelled.
"No!"
Instinct overrode fear. Hannah launched her entire frame out from beneath the desk, tackling the gunman’s waist with all the weight and force she had. The sheer momentum threw the assassin off balance. His rifle discharged into the ceiling, blowing a hole through the plaster, before both of them crashed heavily onto the floor.
The gunman snarled, swinging a heavy elbow back into Hannah’s side. Pain flared through her ribs, but she held on desperately to his wrist, pinning his weapon down.
THUD.
A single shot rang out. The gunman went limp on top of her.
Adrien stood—or rather, held himself upright against the edge of a heavy therapy table, his arm stretched out, his gun smoking. Blood dripped from his knuckles where he had braced himself, his legs shaking violently under the immense strain of his compressed spine, but his posture was absolute steel.
He had forced himself to stand. For her.
Heavy footsteps thundered up the stairs as Victor and a dozen loyal Romano enforcers finally swept into the room, weapons drawn.
"Boss! Are you alright?!" Victor yelled, taking in the bloody scene.
Adrien ignored Victor entirely. His eyes were locked on Hannah, who was gasping for air on the floor, pushing the heavy corpse off her body. Adrien lowered his weapon and sank back heavily into his chair, his body trembling from the sudden physical overload.
"Hannah," Adrien growled, his voice thick with an emotion she had never heard in him before. "Are you hit?"
"I... I think my ribs are bruised," she wheezed, sitting up and wiping the dust from her face. "Did you... did you just stand up?"
Adrien wheeled his chair right up to her, reaching down with broad, rough hands to cup her face gently. He wiped a smudge of soot from her cheek, his thumbs lingering against her skin.
"You took a bullet for me, you foolish girl," he whispered, his gray eyes burning with raw, terrifying intensity. "No one has ever shielded me in my entire life."
"I didn't take a bullet," she managed a faint smile despite the sharp pain in her chest. "I just... squashed him a bit."
Adrien let out a low, breathy laugh—the first real sound of amusement she had ever heard from him. But beneath the dark humor, something fundamental between them had snapped into place.
"Victor," Adrien cold tone returned as he turned to his chief enforcer. "Clean this mess up. Then call a private doctor for Miss Mitchell. If she has a single permanent scratch, I will hold you personally responsible."
"Yes, Mr. Romano," Victor bowed immediately.
"And Victor?" Adrien added, his eyes narrowing to razor slits. "The Morettis didn't bypass the perimeter security without help from the inside. Marcus gave them the access codes."
May you like
Victor’s face darkened. "Shall I handle Marcus now?"
"No," Adrien said, his gaze drifting back to Hannah, whose hand he was still holding tightly. "Marcus wants a show. I’m going to give him one he will never survive."
