The mansion was silent.
Sara lay in Adrian's arms, her eyes closed, her breathing finally steady. The tears had stopped. The shaking had stopped. For the first time since the warehouse, she felt almost peaceful.
Adrian's hand moved gently through her hair.
"You should sleep," he murmured.
"I don't want to." She pressed closer to him. "Every time I close my eyes, I see their faces."
Adrian's arms tightened around her. "Then don't sleep. Just rest."
Sara nodded against his chest.
For a while, there was only silence and warmth and the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear.
Then Marta's voice came through the door.
"Mr. Volkov. There's a problem."
Adrian was on his feet instantly, his body shifting from lover to protector in a heartbeat. He crossed the room and opened the door.
Marta stood there, her face pale.
"Dimitri," she said quietly. "He's not done."
Adrian's jaw tightened. "What now?"
"He's gathered men. A lot of them. They're moving toward the mansion as we speak."
Sara's blood ran cold.
Adrian turned to look at her. In his eyes, she saw the same fear she felt.
He's coming here.
To Tom.
To all of us.
The next hour was chaos.
Men rushed through hallways. Orders were shouted. Guns were loaded. Sara stood in the center of it all, helpless, useless, terrified.
Adrian grabbed her arms.
"Listen to me," he said urgently. "You and Tom are going to the safe room. Marta will take you. You don't come out until I come for you. Understand?"
"I'm not leaving you."
"You're not leaving me. You're protecting Tom." His eyes burned into hers. "He needs you. I need you alive. Do this for me."
Sara wanted to argue. Wanted to fight. Wanted to stay beside him no matter what.
But Tom's face flashed in her mind.
He needs me.
She nodded.
Adrian kissed her—hard, fast, desperate.
"I love you," he said. "Whatever happens tonight, remember that."
Then he was gone.
The safe room was small, windowless, hidden behind a wall in the basement.
Sara sat on a narrow bed, Tom pressed against her side. Marta stood by the door, listening, her face unreadable.
Above them, the sounds of war began.
Gunfire. Explosions. Screaming.
Tom buried his face in Sara's shoulder.
"Sara, I'm scared."
"I know." She held him tighter. "Me too."
The minutes stretched like hours.
Each gunshot made Sara flinch. Each explosion made her heart stop. Somewhere up there, Adrian was fighting. Bleeding. Maybe dying.
And she couldn't do anything.
Couldn't help.
Couldn't save him.
Please, she prayed to a God she wasn't sure she believed in. Please let him live.
The door burst open.
Sara screamed.
But it wasn't Dimitri.
It was one of Adrian's men—young, terrified, covered in blood.
"Mrs. Volkov," he gasped. "You have to come. Mr. Volkov—he's been shot. He's asking for you."
Sara's world stopped.
She turned to Tom. "Stay here. Don't move."
Tom grabbed her hand. "Sara, don't go—"
"I have to." She kissed his forehead. "I love you. I'll come back."
Then she ran.
The main hall was destroyed.
Bodies lay everywhere. Blood painted the walls. The beautiful chandelier hung broken from the ceiling.
And in the center of it all, lying in a pool of red, was Adrian.
Sara dropped to her knees beside him.
"No. No no no no—"
His eyes fluttered open. Found her.
"Sara..."
"You're going to be okay." Tears streamed down her face. "You're going to be okay, Adrian. Stay with me."
Adrian's hand reached up, touched her face. His fingers were cold.
"The bullet," he whispered. "For your father. In the warehouse. Remember?"
Sara stared at him. "What?"
"Dimitri's man. He was going to shoot your father. I... I took it." A weak smile. "Told you... I don't trade what's mine."
Sara's mind raced. He had been shot in the warehouse? And fought through all of this? And never said a word?
"You idiot," she sobbed. "You stupid, stubborn, idiotic man—"
"Love you too."
His eyes closed.
"Adrian? ADRIAN!"
But he didn't open them again.