Chapter 21: Counterstrike
The night after Adrian's uncle appeared in his office, Blackwood Tower was quieter than usual. But Elena couldn't shake the weight of his words.
Still arrogant. But arrogance won't protect her.
Those eyes had lingered on her like a wolf eyeing prey. And through synchronization, she'd felt Adrian's fury burn so hot she thought it might consume them both.
---
The next morning, Adrian stood before the wide windows of his penthouse, phone pressed to his ear, voice clipped and commanding.
"Leak only half the file," he ordered. "Anonymous source. Let them choke on curiosity before they choke on the truth."
He ended the call with a flick of his wrist, as if orchestrating war was no different than ordering breakfast.
Elena padded in from the kitchen, coffee in hand. She set the cup on the table near him. "Half the file? Isn't that risky?"
Adrian's lips curved faintly. "Risky? No. Strategic. Give the press a taste of blood, and they'll claw for more. By the time my uncle sits down at that board table, every reporter in the city will already smell Maxwell Holdings' rot."
Her brows drew together. "And what if they trace the leak back to you?"
His gaze softened—just for her. "Then I'll let them. A little danger keeps things interesting."
The words were casual, but through synchronization, she felt the storm beneath them. Adrian wasn't simply confident. He was daring the world to move against him.
---
By noon, headlines blazed across every major outlet.
"Whispers of Money Laundering at Maxwell Holdings?"
"Anonymous Leaks Suggest Charities Are Shell Fronts."
Elena scrolled through the articles, heart racing. "They're everywhere. It's working."
Adrian stood behind her chair, scanning the screen over her shoulder. "Of course it's working. Scandals are sharks in water—once there's a drop of blood, they frenzy."
She glanced up, realizing just how close he stood. His scent—clean cedar and faint smoke—wrapped around her, making her pulse skip. The synchronization pulsed harder, a rhythm of heat and awareness neither could ignore.
Her lips parted. "Adrian…"
A knock shattered the moment.
They both froze.
"Sir," came a voice from the hall. It was Marcus, Adrian's right-hand man. "Ryan Sullivan is downstairs. He insists on a meeting."
Elena stiffened instantly. Ryan? Here?
Adrian's eyes darkened, though his expression remained cool. "Bring him up."
"Adrian—" Elena began, but he silenced her with a raised hand.
"He's already here. Better to face vermin directly than let them scurry in shadows."
---
Minutes later, Ryan walked in, immaculate in a tailored navy suit. His smug smile faltered only slightly when he saw Elena sitting beside Adrian's desk.
"Well, isn't this cozy," Ryan drawled. "The CEO and his… secretary." His eyes raked over Elena deliberately. "Or is it something more now?"
Adrian's jaw tightened. "Get to the point."
Ryan's smirk returned. "Fine. Maxwell Holdings is concerned about these… unfortunate leaks. If you stop your petty games now, perhaps there's room for negotiation. My allies are generous. They could even offer you a quiet retirement. Imagine it, Adrian—you could keep your fortune, your pride, even your little pet here."
Elena flinched, but Adrian didn't move. His silence stretched until Ryan shifted, uneasy.
Finally, Adrian leaned back in his chair, voice soft and lethal. "Do you know what separates kings from pawns, Ryan?"
Ryan blinked. "Excuse me?"
Adrian's lips curved faintly. "Kings don't negotiate with pawns. They crush them."
The air crackled. Ryan's smirk faltered, replaced by cold anger. He turned his gaze to Elena. "Careful, Elena. Tying yourself to a sinking ship means you drown with it."
Before Adrian could reply, Elena stood. Her voice trembled, but her chin lifted high. "Better to drown with him than rot beside you."
The room went silent.
Ryan's face twisted. For the first time, his charm cracked, revealing the bitterness beneath. Without another word, he stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
---
Adrian rose slowly, walking to where Elena stood trembling. His hand lifted, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek.
"You shouldn't provoke him," he murmured. "He's more dangerous cornered."
Her eyes met his, wide and fierce. "Then let him be dangerous. I won't stand by while he insults you—or us."
For a heartbeat, the world stilled. His thumb lingered at her jaw, their breaths tangled, synchronization pounding like a drum.
"Elena…" he whispered.
It would've happened then—the kiss, the breaking of every barrier—if not for the system.
---
[ System Alert! ]
New Condition Detected: Emotional Synchronization Threshold Reached.
Current Level: 58%
Warning: Threshold events may trigger unpredictable consequences.
Recommendation: Proceed with caution.
Both froze as the notification echoed in their minds.
Adrian cursed under his breath, pulling back sharply. "Damn this system."
Elena pressed her trembling hands to her chest. Unpredictable consequences? What does that mean?
The silence between them buzzed with everything unsaid, every touch almost made.
Finally, Adrian turned, his voice steel again. "Enough distractions. Tomorrow, we hit Maxwell where it hurts most—the senator. If he falls, their whole network collapses."
Elena swallowed hard, nodding. But inside, her heart thundered with a different terror.
Because if the system was right, then the next step in their bond might not be something they could control at all.
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