Chapter 4 - THE SIEGE OF VOSS MANOR
The words were still hanging in the cold air when Adrien fired.
A single round tore through Mercer’s knee.
Mercer wailed, clutching his leg as he writhed in the mud.
“You won't die yet, Daniel,” Adrien said coldly.
“You will live long enough to watch Moretti burn.”
Three black SUVs roared into the depot, tires splashing muddy water across the siding.
Marco leaped from the lead vehicle, followed by eight heavily armed operators in tactical plate carriers.
“Secure this garbage,” Adrien ordered, gesturing toward Mercer.
“Put a tourniquet on his leg. Keep him conscious.”
“Yes, boss,” Marco said.
Adrien walked over to Isabella.
He knelt down in the dirt, heedless of his expensive trousers.
He reached out.
His large, calloused hand cupped her chin with infinite gentleness.
His thumb wiped away the blood and grit from her split lip.
Isabella flinched at first, then leaned into his palm.
Her body shuddered with violent, uncontrollable sobs.
“You should kill me,” she whispered against his skin.
“I brought this to your door.”
Adrien looked into her dark, grief-stricken eyes.
“You made me coffee every night at midnight,” he said softly.
“You remembered that I take it without sugar.”
“You stayed when every sane person ran from this city.”
He slid his arms beneath her knees and lifted her into his arms.
She felt weightless against his chest.
Her hands gripped the lapels of his suit as if he were the only solid thing left in the universe.
“You are coming home, Isabella,” he whispered against her hair.
“Where you belong.”
He carried her to the Maybach and placed her gently in the passenger seat.
He turned the heater on high and draped his heavy wool overcoat over her shivering shoulders.
He climbed behind the wheel.
“Marco,” Adrien spoke into his encrypted radio.
“Status on the estate?”
Static hissed over the speaker, followed by the distant rattle of automatic gunfire.
“Perimeter sensors tripped at the north gate, Mr. Voss!” an operative shouted through the comms.
“Four black vans! They’re using heavy breaching charges on the gatehouse!”
“Hold the foyer,” Adrien commanded.
“Do not let them reach the library or the east wing.”
“I’m five minutes out.”
Adrien threw the Maybach into reverse, spun the wheel, and tore back onto the main boulevard.
Beside him, Isabella clutched the wool coat around her neck.
The fabric smelled of cedar, expensive tobacco, and him.
“Adrien,” she gasped, watching his speedometer climb past ninety miles per hour.
“Moretti will kill Leo if you fight back.”
Adrien’s jaw was set like carved granite.
“Don Moretti made a fatal mistake tonight, Isabella.”
“What mistake?”
Adrien glanced at her, his eyes burning with lethal certainty.
“He thought you were just a housekeeper.”
The Maybach blew through red lights along Lake Shore Drive.
Sleet pelted the windshield like buckshot.
Ahead, on the wooded bluff overlooking Lake Michigan, the Voss estate came into view.
Flames flickered through the dark pine trees.
The wrought-iron north gates had been blown off their stone pillars.
Two burning SUVs blocked the entrance.
Adrien didn't slow down.
He aimed the heavy bumper of the Maybach straight at the burning wreckage.
“Brace yourself,” he said calmly.
CRASH.
The armored car slammed through the burning metal, shoving the wreckage aside with a shriek of twisted steel.
The Maybach shot up the private driveway, emerging onto the circular limestone courtyard.
The estate’s grand double doors had been breached.
Muzzle flashes strobed through the shattered glass of the second-story windows.
Adrien slammed the car into park.
He reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a second handgun—a compact nine-millimeter.
He placed it directly into Isabella’s hands.
“Do you know how to disengage the safety?” he asked.
Isabella looked at the cold black metal.
Her hands trembled, but her eyes hardened.
“My father was a dockmaster,” she said softly.
She clicked the safety off with her thumb.
“He taught me when I was twelve.”
A ghost of a smile touched Adrien’s lips.
“Stay in the car until I clear the foyer.”
“Adrien, wait!” she grabbed his sleeve.
Her fingers dug into the fine fabric.
“Be careful.”
Adrien looked down at her small hand on his arm.
For two years, neither of them had crossed the invisible line between master and servant.
Tonight, the line was drowned in blood.
He leaned down and pressed his lips firmly against her forehead.
May you like
“Lock the doors behind me,” he murmured.
He kicked his door open and stepped into the storm of lead.
