Chapter 5 - The Last Stand on 34th Avenue
The gunfire in the hallway lasted less than thirty seconds, but to Sarah, every second stretched like an eternity.
When Vincent Russo burst through the shattered front door, his service pistol smoking, stepping over the body of Volkov’s second gunman, his eyes locked immediately on Adrian slumped against the kitchen counter.
“Boss!” Vincent dropped to his knees beside them, holstering his weapon with practiced speed. He reached into Adrian’s coat, grabbed the medical override device, and pressed a sequence of three buttons on the keypad.
A sharp, mechanical click echoed inside Adrian’s chest, followed instantly by a violent, full-body spasm as the internal device delivered a controlled electrical shock to restart his erratic rhythm.
Adrian gasped, his back arching off the floor as air rushed back into his lungs like a wave breaking over a beach. He blinked rapidly, the gray fog clearing from his vision as he grabbed Vincent’s forearm with a grip of iron.
“Lily,” Adrian choked out, his voice raw. “Is she—?”
“She’s in the back bedroom,” Vincent said, his face grim as he scanned the perimeter of the apartment. “My guys secured the fire escape and the front stairwell. Volkov sent a hit squad, boss. They knew where you were because someone inside the hospital leaked your transport logs.”
Adrian pushed himself up, leaning heavily against the kitchen counter, ignoring the white-hot pain radiating from his shoulder and chest. The defibrillator hummed quietly beneath his skin, stabilizing his heart with mechanical precision.
He looked toward the hallway where Lily was still hiding, then down at the blood staining his hands.
For three years, he had believed that hiding from his enemies was the only way to keep them safe. He had believed that distance was love.
Tonight had proved him wrong. Distance hadn't stopped Volkov from finding them; it had only left them defenseless while he sat in a hospital room miles away.
“Vincent,” Adrian said, his voice dropping into a tone that made even his hardened second-in-command stiffen to attention.
“Boss?”
“Dimitri Volkov thinks he can reach into my home and touch my family.” Adrian stood straight, pulling his Sig Sauer from the floor and checking the magazine with cold, practiced efficiency. “He wants a war over Red Hook? I’m going to give him the entire damn harbor.”
Vincent stared at him for a beat, a grim, satisfied smile touching the corner of his mouth. “I’ll bring the cars around front.”
Adrian turned back toward the kitchen.
Sarah was standing by the doorway of the back bedroom, holding Lily in her arms. The little girl had her face buried in Sarah’s shoulder, crying softly, but when she saw Adrian standing there—pale, bruised, but alive—she reached out a small hand.
Adrian walked across the blood-stained floor, knelt down until he was eye-level with his daughter, and gently took her hand in his.
“Are you okay, airplane?” Lily whispered, her big brown eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
Adrian smiled—a real, unfiltered smile that chased away every shadow in the room. He pressed a gentle kiss to the back of her small hand.
“I’m okay, sweet beet,” he said softly. “And I’m never, ever flying away again.”
Sarah looked down at him, her eyes shining with tears of relief, anger, and a terrifying, beautiful surrender. She didn't ask him to leave. She didn't tell him it was impossible. She reached out her free hand and rested it on the back of his neck, pulling him forward until his forehead rested gently against hers.
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“Finish it, Adrian,” she whispered fiercely against his skin. “Then come home.”
Adrian stood up, kissed Sarah’s forehead once, and walked out the front door into the rain, leaving the shadows behind him forever.
