The screams didn't stop.
Sara stood frozen at the car door, her hands pressed against her mouth, her eyes fixed on the horror before her. Marta and her father—tied to the pillars, covered in blood, their heads hanging limp.
Adrian was already moving.
"Guards! Now!" His voice thundered through the night. "Get them down! Call the doctor!"
Men poured from the mansion. Knives appeared, cutting through ropes. Bodies were lowered gently to the ground. Someone was shouting orders. Someone else was crying.
Sara couldn't move.
Couldn't breathe.
Couldn't do anything but stare.
Adrian appeared before her, blocking her view. His hands cupped her face, forcing her to look at him.
"Sara. Look at me."
She looked.
"They're alive." His voice was steady, grounding. "Both of them. Hurt, but alive. Do you hear me?"
Sara nodded numbly.
"I need you to go inside. Go to Tom. Make sure he stays in his room. Can you do that?"
"Tom," she whispered. "Yes. Tom."
She turned toward the mansion, her legs moving on autopilot. Behind her, she heard Adrian's voice—cold now, controlled, the mafia king taking charge.
"I want every guard on perimeter. No one in. No one out. And I want Dimitri found. Tonight."
Tom was sitting on his bed, eyes wide, when Sara entered.
"Sara! What's happening? I heard screaming—"
Sara crossed the room and pulled him into her arms.
"Everything's okay," she lied. "Just stay here with me. Okay?"
Tom clung to her. "Was that Dad? I heard—was that Dad?"
Sara's heart broke.
"Dad's going to be fine. He's hurt, but he's going to be fine."
Tom pulled back, his young face serious beyond his years. "It's Dimitri, isn't it? He did something."
Sara didn't answer. She didn't have to.
Tom's eyes filled with tears, but he didn't cry. He just nodded slowly and leaned against her.
"I hate him," he whispered. "I hate him so much."
Sara held him tighter.
"Me too, baby. Me too."
Hours passed.
Sara sat with Tom until he fell asleep, then slipped out quietly. The mansion was eerily silent—no servants moving, no guards talking, just the heavy weight of waiting.
She found Adrian in the medical wing.
Marta lay on a bed, pale and still, bandages wrapped around her head and arms. A doctor worked quietly beside her, checking monitors, adjusting IVs.
In the next room, Sara's father lay in a similar state.
Adrian stood between the two rooms, his back against the wall, his face carved from stone.
Sara went to him without speaking. She took his hand. Held it tight.
"Marta?" she whispered.
"Concussion. Broken ribs. Lost a lot of blood." His voice was flat. "She'll recover."
"Dad?"
"Same. They beat them both. Wanted to send a message." Adrian's jaw tightened. "It worked."
Sara leaned her head against his shoulder.
"We'll get through this," she whispered. "We always do."
Adrian didn't answer.
Dawn broke over the mansion.
Sara had dozed in a chair, holding Adrian's hand. She woke to find him gone. Panic seized her chest until she saw him through the window—standing in the gardens, phone to his ear, his body rigid with tension.
She went outside.
Adrian ended the call as she approached.
"Anything?" she asked.
He turned to face her. His eyes were red-rimmed, exhausted, but burning with something darker.
"He's not in the city. My men have searched everywhere. It's like he disappeared."
"Dimitri doesn't disappear. He plans."
Adrian nodded slowly. "That's what scares me."
Sara moved closer, wrapping her arms around his waist. "We'll face it together. Whatever he throws at us."
Adrian held her tightly, his face buried in her hair.
"I should have killed him," he whispered. "Years ago. When I had the chance. None of this would be happening."
"You didn't know."
"I knew he was dangerous. I knew he hated me. I just... I couldn't. He's my brother."
Sara pulled back and looked at him.
"And that's why you're not like him. That's why I love you."
Adrian's eyes glistened.
"I don't deserve you."
"Stop saying that." She kissed him softly. "We're in this together. Remember?"
He nodded.
Together.
Always together.