Elena's POV
The elevator is moving.
In the pitch-black penthouse, I hear it climbing—floor by floor, getting closer. But the power is out. Elevators don't work without power.
Unless someone made them work.
"Marcus, get her to the safe room," Adrian says. His voice is deadly calm, but I hear the edge underneath.
"On it." Marcus grabs my arm, pulling me across the dark room.
I stumble on my bandaged feet. "What's happening?"
"Someone cut the power and overrode the elevator system," Marcus explains, moving fast. "Which means they have access to building operations."
My stomach drops. "Damian."
"Or someone working for him." He pulls me down a hallway I can't see. "A million dollars buys a lot of skills."
Adrian's still on the phone with his mother. I hear him trying to keep his voice steady. "Mom, I need you to listen carefully. Lock your doors. Don't answer for anyone except my security team. I'm sending them now."
"Adrian, you're scaring me—"
"I know. I'm sorry. I'll explain everything soon. I promise. Just please, trust me."
The elevator dings.
Thirtieth floor.
It's here.
Adrian ends the call. I hear him moving in the darkness, the sound of metal sliding—a gun being loaded.
"Marcus, status?"
"Safe room in ten seconds."
A door opens somewhere behind us. Not the elevator. Another door.
The emergency stairwell.
They came from two directions.
"They're in," Adrian says, unnaturally calm. "Marcus, now."
Marcus shoves me through a doorway. I stumble into a small room—I can tell it's small by how close the walls feel. He hits something, and dim red emergency lights flicker on. We're in a windowless space with steel walls and what looks like enough supplies to survive a siege.
A safe room. Adrian has a literal safe room in his penthouse.
"Stay here," Marcus orders. "Don't open this door for anyone but Adrian or me. You understand?"
"What about you?"
"I'm going to help Adrian have a conversation with whoever's stupid enough to break into his home." He pulls out a gun from somewhere. "Lock this behind me. The code to get out is 0415. Got it?"
"0415," I repeat, my voice shaking.
"Good girl." He slips out, and the heavy door swings shut with a solid thunk.
I'm alone in the red-lit safe room, listening to my own breathing.
Then I hear the first gunshot.
I clap my hands over my mouth to keep from screaming. More shots follow—three, four, five. They sound muffled through the steel walls, but each one makes me flinch.
This is my fault. I brought this violence to Adrian's door. His mother is scared. His building is under attack. People might die.
Because I ran.
Because I was too weak to stop Damian three years ago, too scared to leave sooner, too broken to fight back until it was almost too late.
The shooting stops.
Silence is worse. I don't know what silence means. Did Adrian and Marcus win? Are they hurt? Dead?
Is Damian out there right now, searching for me?
My hands shake as I back against the far wall, making myself as small as possible. Old habit. When Damian was angry, being small sometimes helped. Not always, but sometimes.
The USB drive is still in my pocket—I can feel it pressing against my hip. Eight months of evidence. Recordings of Damian arranging illegal drug trials on homeless people. Photos of falsified research that got medications approved when they should have failed. Financial records showing payoffs to doctors who covered up patient deaths at CrossMed facilities.
People died because of what Damian did. Real people with families, with lives, with futures.
And I stayed silent for three years because I was afraid.
Footsteps outside the door.
I stop breathing.
Someone's trying the handle. Once. Twice. Then they stop.
"Elena." Damian's voice filters through the steel. "I know you're in there, baby. Adrian's safe room—clever. But it won't save you."
My heart hammers so hard it hurts.
"You can't hide forever," he continues, conversational. Like we're discussing dinner plans. "This room has air vents. Limited supplies. Eventually, you'll have to come out. And I'm a patient man."
I press both hands over my mouth to keep silent. Don't react. Don't give him anything.
"I'm not angry," he lies. "I'm disappointed. We could have worked this out, Elena. I would have forgiven you for stealing from me. I always forgive you, don't I?"
The false kindness in his voice is worse than his anger. This is the Damian who brought me flowers after breaking my ribs. Who apologized with jewelry after choking me unconscious. Who promised to change right before doing it again.
"But you involved Adrian." His voice hardens. "You turned my own brother against me. That, I can't forgive."
Silence.
Then: "I found your sister's address in your phone, by the way. Sophia, right? Pretty girl. Runs that Italian restaurant in Brooklyn. I think I'll pay her a visit after I deal with you. Show her what happens when the Moretti girls forget their place."
Ice floods my veins.
No. Not Sophia. Anyone but Sophia.
"Unless you come out now," Damian says sweetly. "Open the door, give me the evidence, and I'll forget this whole thing happened. You can go back to your sister. I won't even press charges for theft. We'll just... start over. What do you say, baby?"
My hand moves toward the door before I can stop it.
Then someone screams outside. A man's voice—not Adrian's, not Marcus's.
Gunshots explode again. Closer this time.
Something heavy hits the safe room door, making me jump back.
"You bitch!" Damian roars, all pretense of calm gone. "You'll pay for this! I'll make you watch while I—"
His voice cuts off abruptly.
Silence again.
Then a knock. Three times. A pattern.
"Elena, it's Marcus. It's safe. You can come out."
I don't move. How do I know it's really Marcus? How do I know Damian isn't making him say that?
"The code is 0415," Marcus continues. "April 15th. The day Adrian stopped our father from killing our mother. The day everything changed for this family. Now open the door before Adrian bleeds out on my expensive rug."
Adrian's hurt.
My hands fly to the keypad, punching in the numbers. The door clicks and swings open.
Marcus stands there, blood on his shirt—I can't tell if it's his or someone else's. Behind him, Adrian leans against the wall, clutching his side. Dark liquid seeps between his fingers.
But my eyes go to the body on the floor.
Not Damian.
A man I don't recognize, dressed in black tactical gear. Dead eyes staring at nothing.
"Where's Damian?" I whisper.
Adrian's face is pale, but his voice is steady. "Gone. He ran when his hired guns failed."
"You're bleeding."
"Grazed. I've had worse."
Marcus helps Adrian toward the couch. "We've got bigger problems. Whoever cut the power didn't do it from inside the building. They did it from the city grid. That takes serious resources and connections."
Adrian sits heavily, wincing. "Damian's escalating faster than I calculated."
"And he threatened my sister," I say. My voice sounds strange. Distant. "He knows where Sophia is."
Both men look at me.
"Then we get her first," Adrian says simply. "Marcus, send a team to—"
His phone rings. Not his phone. The dead man's phone, lying near his body.
It buzzes once. Twice. On the third ring, the screen lights up with an incoming call.
The caller ID reads: D. Cross
We all stare at it.
"Answer it," I say. "Let me talk to him."
"Elena, no—" Adrian starts.
I pick up the phone before either of them can stop me.
"Hello, Damian."
Silence on the other end. Then his laugh—cold and sharp as broken glass.
"There's my girl. I knew you couldn't resist. Did you enjoy my gift? The hired guns were just a warm-up. A test. You passed, by the way. I always knew you were stronger than you pretended."
"Stay away from my sister."
"Or what?" His voice drops to a purr. "You'll have Adrian protect her too? How many people can your new boyfriend save at once, Elena? Your sister? His mother? You? He'll have to choose eventually. And when he does..."
"When he does, what?"
"I'll be waiting." The call ends.
The dead man's phone immediately chimes with a text message.
I open it.
It's a photo.
My sister Sophia, leaving her restaurant. Time stamp: six minutes ago.
Another photo loads. Sophia getting into her car.
Another. Her driving down the street.
Someone is following her. Right now.
I look up at Adrian. "We have to—"
His phone rings. His actual phone this time.
He answers, listens, and his face goes blank. The kind of blank that means something terrible just happened.
He lowers the phone slowly.
"That was the hospital," he says. "My mother collapsed. Heart attack. They don't know if she'll make it through the night."
The room spins.
Damian didn't choose who to hurt.
He's hurting everyone at once.