Chapter 8 - THE SHIELD OF STEEL
Adrien did not draw a weapon.
He had no time to aim.
He threw himself across the ten feet of freezing concrete.
BANG.
Moretti’s revolver fired.
The heavy lead bullet tore through the air with a deafening crack.
Adrien slammed his body directly between the barrel and the child.
The impact spun Adrien around.
The Kevlar vest absorbed the center mass of the bullet, but the blunt force cracked two of his ribs with an audible snap.
Adrien gasped, a metallic taste filling the back of his mouth.
He did not fall.
He channeled the agonizing momentum of the blow into a devastating forward strike.
His right fist crashed into Moretti’s jaw like a sledgehammer.
Teeth and blood sprayed across the wooden pallet.
Moretti crashed to the concrete, the chrome revolver flying from his grip.
Adrien stepped over the fallen boss.
He drew the concealed Kimber .45 from the small of his back.
He aimed the muzzle directly between Moretti’s eyes.
“Adrien!” Isabella wept from the pillar.
“Adrien, please!”
Adrien’s finger tightened on the trigger.
The rage inside him was a roaring furnace.
This man had murdered her father.
This man had tortured her for two years.
This man had aimed a gun at an innocent seven-year-old child.
He wanted to pull the trigger.
He wanted to end it here.
Then little Leo spoke.
“Mister?”
The small, frail voice cut through the ringing gunsmoke like a silver bell.
Adrien froze.
He looked down at the boy sitting on the pallet.
Leo was clutching the thin hospital blanket, his eyes wide with wonder, not fear.
The boy was looking at Adrien’s chest where the bullet had left a scorch mark on his dark suit.
“Are you the knight?” Leo whispered.
The furnace inside Adrien’s chest suddenly went quiet.
The darkness that had ruled his life for thirty years cracked open.
He looked at the boy.
Then he looked at Isabella.
Her face was drenched in tears, her lips whispering silent prayers.
She didn't need another killer in her life.
She needed peace.
Adrien slowly lowered the weapon.
He engaged the safety with a soft, decisive click.
He looked down at Moretti, who was groveling on the floor, clutching his broken jaw.
“Dying tonight would be a mercy for you, Vincente,” Adrien said coldly.
“Instead, you will spend the rest of your miserable life in a federal supermax facility.”
“Every dirty cent you stole will be liquidated.”
“And every penny will fund pediatric cancer research in this city.”
He turned his back on Moretti.
“Marco.”
“Sir!” Marco called down from the catwalk.
“Call the federal marshals.”
“Deliver him to their custody.”
“Understood, boss.”
Adrien walked over to the pillar where Isabella was tied.
He pulled a tactical folding knife from his pocket and flicked the blade open.
With two swift, careful strokes, he severed the zip-ties binding her wrists.
The moment she was free, Isabella didn't check her bleeding arms.
She threw herself into Adrien’s arms.
She buried her face into the crook of his neck, sobbing uncontrollably.
Her small hands clutched the lapels of his ruined coat as if she would never let go.
“You’re hurt,” she cried, feeling his ragged breathing.
“You took a bullet for him.”
Adrien wrapped his arms around her trembling waist.
He held her flush against his chest, ignoring the sharp agony in his ribs.
He buried his face in her dark hair, inhaling the faint, sweet scent of lavender and soap that had haunted his empty mansion for two years.
“I would take a thousand bullets for you, Isabella,” he murmured into her hair.
His voice broke with raw, unmasked emotion.
May you like
“I told you.”
“You belong under my roof.”
