The mansion had never felt so vulnerable.
Sara stood at the window of their bedroom, watching the sun set behind the gardens. The roses she had planted months ago were in full bloom now—red and white and pink, a sea of color that stretched toward the walls. Beautiful. Fragile. Like everything else in her life.
Adrian moved behind her, his footsteps silent on the carpet. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her back against his chest.
"You've been standing here for an hour," he murmured.
"I've been thinking."
"About?"
She leaned into him, closing her eyes. "The baby. Natalia. Everything."
Adrian's hand pressed gently against her stomach. They had confirmed it yesterday—a doctor, discreet, trusted. Sara was pregnant. Almost six weeks. A tiny life growing inside her.
"A Volkov heir," the doctor had said, smiling.
Adrian hadn't smiled. He had held Sara's hand and said nothing. But that night, he had held her for hours, his face buried in her hair, his body shaking with something she couldn't name.
"We need to tell Elena," Sara said now. "And Tom. They deserve to know."
Adrian was quiet for a moment. "Tom will be happy. He's always wanted to be an uncle."
Sara smiled despite herself. "He'll be insufferable. He'll want to teach the baby how to play video games before it can walk."
Adrian's arms tightened around her. "And my mother... she'll want to knit things. A hundred tiny sweaters."
They stood in silence, watching the last light fade from the sky.
"I'm scared," Sara admitted. "I've never been this scared."
Adrian turned her in his arms, cupping her face with his hands. "I won't let anything happen to you. Or to our child. I swear it."
"I know." She touched his cheek. "I know you'll protect us."
He kissed her—soft, slow, full of everything he couldn't say.
When they broke apart, the alarms went off.
The sound was deafening—a shrieking wail that echoed through the mansion, through the gardens, through the walls. Sara had heard it only once before, during Dimitri's attack.
She grabbed Adrian's arm. "What's happening?"
He was already moving, pulling her toward the door. "Stay behind me. Don't let go of my hand."
They ran through the hallway, down the stairs, toward the security center. Guards rushed past them, weapons drawn, faces grim. The wail of the alarm was joined by shouts, by running feet, by something else.
Gunfire.
Sara's blood turned to ice.
Adrian pulled her into the security center, slamming the door behind them. The room was chaos—men shouting over radios, screens showing the perimeter, red dots blinking where the sensors had been tripped.
"What do we have?" Adrian demanded.
One of the guards looked up, his face pale. "Multiple breaches. East gate, west wall, the service entrance. At least a dozen men. Maybe more."
Adrian's jaw tightened. "Who?"
The guard pointed to a screen. Sara leaned closer, her heart pounding.
The cameras showed dark figures moving through the gardens, cutting through the rose bushes she had planted, converging on the mansion. They were armed. They were fast. They knew exactly where they were going.
"Natalia," Sara breathed.
Adrian's face was stone. "Get my mother. Get Tom. Bring them here. Now."
Guards ran.
Adrian turned to Sara, gripping her arms. "Listen to me. When they come, you stay in this room. You don't leave. You don't open the door for anyone. Do you understand?"
"I understand."
"If anything happens—"
"Nothing's going to happen." She grabbed his face, forcing him to look at her. "You're going to stop them. And then you're going to come back to me. To us."
Adrian kissed her—hard, desperate, tasting of fear and love and everything they had built together.
Then he was gone.
The minutes that followed were the longest of Sara's life.
She stood in the security center, surrounded by screens and guards, watching the attack unfold. Elena arrived, pale but calm, her hand gripping Sara's. Tom came next, his face white, his eyes wide, but he didn't cry. He was so brave. So much braver than he should have to be.
"Where's Adrian?" Tom asked.
"He's protecting us," Sara said, pulling him close. "He's going to be fine."
On the screens, she watched him move through the mansion like a force of nature. He was everywhere at once—here, there, a flash of movement, a burst of gunfire, a figure falling. The guards followed him, fought beside him, died for him.
Sara watched a man she had spoken to yesterday, a guard who had smiled at her over breakfast, crumple to the ground. She watched another fall. And another.
Tears streamed down her face, but she didn't look away.
She couldn't.
Because Adrian was out there. Fighting for them. Fighting for their family. Fighting for their future.
And she needed to see him come back.
The attack lasted forty-seven minutes.
Sara counted every one.
When the gunfire finally stopped, when the alarms finally fell silent, she was shaking so hard she could barely stand. Elena held her up. Tom held her hand.
The security center door opened.
Adrian stood there.
He was covered in blood—his? theirs? she couldn't tell. His face was cut. His shirt was torn. But his eyes—his eyes found hers, and he was alive. He was alive.
Sara ran to him.
She collided with his chest, her arms wrapping around him, her face buried against his neck. He smelled like smoke and blood and sweat. He smelled like home.
"You came back," she sobbed.
"I promised I would."
He held her for a long moment, his arms so tight she could barely breathe. Then he pulled back, looking at Elena, at Tom.
"You're safe. All of you."
Elena stepped forward, touching his face. "And you? Are you hurt?"
He shook his head. "Nothing serious."
Tom moved closer, his voice small. "Did you get them? Did you stop them?"
Adrian knelt, bringing himself to Tom's level. "We stopped them. For now."
Tom's chin trembled. "Is it over?"
Adrian pulled him into a hug, holding him the way he'd held Sara. "It's over for tonight. I promise."
Later, after Elena had taken Tom to his room, after the wounded had been tended to, after the dead had been counted, Sara and Adrian stood in the ruins of the garden.
The roses were destroyed. The bushes she had planted, watered, watched grow—trampled into mud. The fountain was shattered. The walls were scarred with bullet holes.
"It's all gone," Sara whispered.
Adrian wrapped his arm around her. "We'll rebuild."
"Every time we rebuild, something else happens. Every time we think we're safe, Natalia finds a new way to hurt us."
Adrian was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "She wasn't trying to kill us tonight."
Sara looked at him. "What?"
"The attack. It was too scattered. Too unfocused. She didn't send enough men. She didn't push hard enough." His jaw tightened. "She was testing us. Seeing how we'd react. Looking for weaknesses."
Sara's blood ran cold. "She wanted to see how we'd defend ourselves."
"She wanted to see what she's up against. And she found it." Adrian's face was grim. "She saw how many guards we have. How fast we respond. How we fight."
"What does she do now?"
Adrian stared at the ruined garden. "She plans. She waits. And next time, she brings everything."
Sara pressed closer to him. "What do we do?"
He looked down at her, and something shifted in his eyes. Something hard. Something final.
"We do the same. We plan. We wait. And when she comes again, we end this. Once and for all."
That night, Sara couldn't sleep.
She lay in Adrian's arms, staring at the ceiling, her hand pressed against her stomach. The baby. Their baby. A life that had no idea what world it was being born into.
Adrian's hand covered hers.
"You're thinking too loud again."
"Sorry."
He turned her toward him, his eyes soft in the darkness. "What's going on in that head of yours?"
Sara bit her lip. "I'm scared of what comes next. Of what Natalia will do when she finds out about the baby."
"She won't find out."
"She will. She always finds out everything."
Adrian was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "Then we make sure she can't do anything about it."
Sara frowned. "What do you mean?"
He sat up, pulling her with him. His face was serious, determined.
"Ivan Baranov has resources. Connections. People who owe him favors. He offered to help. I think it's time we took him up on it."
"You want to ask Ivan for help? After everything?"
"I want to end this, Sara. For you. For Tom. For our child." His hand pressed against her stomach. "I don't want our baby to grow up in a world where Natalia Volkov is hiding in the shadows, waiting to destroy us."
Sara looked at him for a long moment. Then she nodded slowly.
"What do you need me to do?"
Adrian kissed her forehead. "Be ready. Because when we go after Natalia, she's going to fight. And I need to know that whatever happens, you and our baby are safe."
"I'll always be ready. We're Volkovs. We fight."
He smiled—that real smile, the one only she got to see.
"We fight."