The cab ride felt longer than it should have.
Every streetlight that flashed by pulled me deeper into a decision I wasn't sure I understood. I was trusting a man I'd sworn to destroy, not because I believed him, but because something in his voice told me not to ignore the warning.
When I reached the address he'd given, the place didn't look like much, an old two-story warehouse tucked behind a row of half-abandoned shops. No lights, no signs. Just shadows and silence.
The door opened before I could knock.
Adrian stood there in a dark T-shirt, sleeves rolled up, tension in every line of his body. For a man who'd supposedly ruined lives, he looked too calm, too controlled.
"You came," he said quietly.
"Don't flatter yourself. I came because someone trashed my apartment."
His gaze flicked to the small cut on my arm. "You're hurt."
"It's nothing."
He didn't argue. Just stepped aside and motioned me in.
The inside was exactly what I expected from him: minimal, efficient, and cold. A single desk with multiple monitors, a wall covered in maps and red lines of connection, and a narrow couch that looked more like a military cot.
"You live like a ghost," I muttered.
He gave a dry half-smile. "Hard to hit what doesn't exist."
I dropped my bag onto the floor and folded my arms. "So who broke into my place? You?"
"No." He leaned against the desk, crossing his arms. "They were looking for the files you showed me. Whoever's after you thinks you have more than you do."
"Then tell me who they are."
"I can't."
I laughed without humor. "Of course you can't."
He pushed off the desk and stepped closer. "This isn't about protecting them, Elara. It's about keeping you alive long enough to understand what you're walking into."
"Don't act like you care."
"I don't need to act."
That stopped me cold. There was no arrogance in his voice this time, no superiority, just something quieter, heavier. Guilt.
The silence that followed pressed between us like a heat wave. I hated that I noticed him, the faint scar along his jaw, the way his eyes looked almost gold in the dim light, the stillness he carried like a man who'd seen too much and never healed.
I turned away before my thoughts betrayed me.
"I want to see your files," I said.
He hesitated. "They're classified."
"So are mine."
For a second, I thought he'd refuse. Then he nodded toward the far wall. "Over there."
I crossed the room, expecting half-truths and empty folders. What I found made my chest tighten.
It was a timeline of years of data, maps, and surveillance photos. At the center was my brother's name, circled in red. Around it, names I didn't recognize. But one I did, Captain Ross.
I turned to Adrian. "He was your superior."
He nodded. "And your brother's commanding officer. The leak didn't come from me, Elara. It came from him."
"Then why didn't you say that years ago?"
"Because Ross had enough pull to bury the truth. Someone had to take the blame, and I was expendable."
My throat tightened. "You took the fall for him?"
He didn't answer, just looked at me with that same unreadable calm.
I stared at him, the puzzle pieces clashing in my mind. Everything I'd believed, every ounce of hate I'd carried, started to shift, painfully.
"You're lying," I whispered, because it was easier than believing him.
"If I were, you wouldn't be standing here," he said softly. "Ross wanted you silenced after your article last month."
The words hit harder than I expected. "You knew about that?"
"I've been keeping track of you since the moment you published it."
My pulse jumped. "So you were watching me?"
"Protecting you," he said. "Even when you didn't want it."
That did it. I spun around and shoved at his chest. "You don't get to decide that! You don't get to act like some hero now!"
He caught my wrist before I could pull back, not hard, but firm enough that I felt the strength beneath his restraint. His voice dropped, quiet but sharp.
"I don't need you to believe me, Elara. But you need to start believing the danger is real."
His eyes locked on mine, steady and unblinking. For a moment, everything else fell away: the betrayal, the anger, the years between us. There was just the heat of his hand and the steady pulse in his grip.
Then a noise shattered the moment the faintest click outside.
Adrian's head snapped toward the door. In one motion, he released me, grabbed his weapon from the desk, and moved silently across the room.
I froze.
A shadow flickered past the window, two, maybe three figures.
"Down," he whispered.
Before I could react, the glass exploded inward. The sound was deafening, a blast of gunfire and shattering light. I hit the floor as Adrian pulled me behind the desk.
"Stay here," he said, his voice low and calm, like he'd done this a hundred times before.
"Are you insane? There are people with guns out there!"
"Exactly why you're not moving."
He leaned out, returned fire, then ducked back, expression hard and focused. The chaos outside felt distant compared to the pounding in my chest.
When the shooting stopped, the silence was even more profound.
Adrian stood, gun raised, stepping toward the broken window. A shadow moved again, then vanished into the darkness. Whoever they were, they'd come close. Too close.
He exhaled, lowering the weapon. "They'll be back."
I got up slowly, brushing glass from my hair. "So what now?"
"Now," he said, turning toward me, eyes fierce and unreadable, "you stop pretending you can handle this alone."
I opened my mouth to argue, but the look he gave me stopped me cold, not anger this time, but something more profound. Fear. Not for himself, but for me.
And that terrified me more than the gunfire.
That night, sleep never came.
Adrian stayed by the window, silent and alert. I sat on the couch, pretending to ignore him, pretending not to notice how the light caught the edge of his jaw or how steady his breathing was when mine wasn't.
Every instinct in me screamed to run from him, from this, from the truth that felt closer now than ever.
But another part of me, the part I didn't want to admit existed, stayed because of him.
I wasn't sure if I was safer with Adrian Vale
or in more danger than ever before.