Chapter 15
Adrian sprinted up the marble staircase, bypassing the grand foyer entirely. His tailored black suit jacket flared behind him, his hand already gripping the heavy black handgun concealed at his hip. Marcus and three senior bodyguards followed close behind, their weapons drawn.
"Lock down the east wing!" Adrian roared into his comms unit. "Nobody goes in or out of the master suite!"
He reached the heavy double doors of the east wing suite and kicked them open with a violent bang. The room was empty. The bed was made. Emma and Nora were gone.
"Check the conservatory!" Marcus barked, sweeping the room with his weapon raised.
Adrian felt a terrifying, primal panic grip his chest. He sprinted down the corridor toward the glass-enclosed conservatory. As he burst through the doors, the scene before him froze the blood in his veins.
Standing amidst the tropical plants and marble fountains was an unfamiliar man dressed in the stolen uniform of an estate guard. In his left hand, he gripped Nora by the arm. In his right hand, he held a suppressed pistol aimed directly at Emma, who was standing fiercely in front of her daughter, refusing to back down.
Nora wasn't crying. The little girl who had once commanded the foyer with a plastic phone stared at the intruder with an expression of ice-cold authority. Her oversized black silk tie hung perfectly still against her dress.
"Drop the gun, Adrian," the infiltrator sneered in a thick Chicago accent. "Or the mother dies first."
Adrian didn't need a tactical flashlight or a prolonged negotiation. He was a man used to controlling his empire with absolute precision. He recognized the micro-shift in the killer's shoulder—the physical tell that he was about to pull the trigger.
Without uttering a single word, Adrian executed a rapid, flawless shot.
Thwip.
The bullet struck the infiltrator perfectly in the shoulder, shattering his collarbone and forcing him to drop the pistol. The man collapsed against the wicker sofa with a scream of agony.
Adrian was upon him in a terrifying, fluid speed. He kicked the fallen weapon away, grabbed the killer by the throat with his bare, tattooed hand, and slammed him violently against the marble floor.
"Are you hurt?" Adrian asked over his shoulder, his deep baritone smooth and steady, devoid of the murderous rage currently coursing through his veins.
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"We are fine," Emma replied breathlessly, immediately scooping Nora into her arms and holding her tightly.
Adrian looked down at the bleeding assassin, his dark eyes burning with crushing contempt. "You entered my home. You threatened my niece. I am going to make you beg for death."
