After the basement, nothing inside the Moretti estate felt normal anymore.

Not the marble floors.

Not the expensive artwork.

Not the servants moving quietly through hallways pretending they couldn’t hear screams beneath the house.

Valentina barely spoke during the drive back from the estate to the Manhattan penthouse later that night. Luca spent most of the ride on business calls while Adrian sat across from her in silence, gray-blue eyes unreadable beneath the dim interior lights of the SUV.

But she noticed one thing immediately.

Adrian never once looked toward Luca after the interrogation.

Not once.

That mattered.

The city blurred past rain-covered windows while exhaustion settled heavily through her body. She could still hear Marco screaming every time she blinked.

Monster.

Now the word fit perfectly.

By the time they returned to Manhattan, Luca had already regained his composure entirely. He kissed Valentina’s temple casually near the elevator as though he hadn’t beaten a man half to death an hour earlier.

“Get some sleep,” he murmured. “You look pale.”

Valentina almost laughed.

Instead, she walked into the penthouse without answering.

Luca disappeared into his office shortly afterward for another late-night meeting, leaving the apartment wrapped in tense silence.

Adrian remained near the windows as usual, one hand resting near the inside of his coat while security updates crackled softly through his earpiece.

Valentina stopped near the kitchen island and poured herself whiskey with shaking hands she hoped he wouldn’t notice.

He noticed anyway.

“You shouldn’t drink when you’re angry,” Adrian said quietly.

She swallowed the whiskey too fast. “You shouldn’t torture people in basements.”

The words came sharper than intended.

Adrian didn’t react defensively.

That somehow made it worse.

Valentina set the glass down hard against the marble counter. “How long have you known?”

“That Luca keeps prisoners?”

“Yes.”

“Long enough.”

The answer hollowed something inside her chest.

“You still work for him.”

Adrian looked toward the city instead of her. “For now.”

The wording caught her attention instantly.

For now.

Not loyalty.

Not commitment.

Temporary.

Interesting.

Dangerous.

Before she could press further, Adrian’s earpiece crackled sharply.

His posture changed immediately.

Alert.

Focused.

“Repeat that,” he said quietly.

A pause followed.

Then his expression hardened almost imperceptibly.

“What happened?” Valentina asked.

“One of the perimeter teams lost visual on a vehicle outside the building.”

“That sounds bad.”

“It could be nothing.”

“But you don’t think it is.”

“No.”

He moved toward the elevator immediately, already reaching beneath his coat for his weapon.

Valentina stepped away from the counter. “Where are you going?”

“To check it.”

“That sounds suspiciously like a terrible idea.”

“It usually is.”

Then he looked at her directly.

“Lock the penthouse doors behind me.”

The seriousness in his voice made her stomach tighten instantly.

“Adrian—”

But the elevator doors had already closed behind him.

Rain hammered Manhattan harder now, turning the skyline into fractured gold and black beneath storm clouds. Twenty floors below the penthouse, Adrian exited through the underground garage and stepped into cold air carrying gasoline, wet concrete, and danger.

The black sedan sat exactly where security reported.

Engine running.

Lights off.

Parked too close to the service entrance.

Adrian recognized the mistake immediately.

Professionals never waited inside vehicles unless they wanted rapid extraction afterward.

Which meant whoever sat inside that sedan expected violence soon.

His hand settled calmly around the handgun beneath his coat while he crossed the garage slowly.

No wasted movement.

No hesitation.

The sedan doors opened suddenly.

Two men emerged fast.

Suppressed gunfire cracked through the garage almost instantly.

Adrian moved before the second shot fired.

The first attacker dropped with a bullet through the throat before he fully cleared the vehicle door. Adrian grabbed the second man violently by the jacket and slammed him against the concrete pillar hard enough to crack bone.

The assassin reached for another weapon.

Too slow.

Adrian drove the knife beneath the man’s ribs with brutal precision.

Warm blood covered his hand immediately.

The attacker gasped once before collapsing heavily onto the garage floor.

Silence returned fast afterward except for rain and distant traffic outside.

Adrian remained still for several seconds, breathing controlled while blood dripped slowly from his fingers onto concrete.

Professional hitmen.

Not random street violence.

Which meant exactly what he feared.

Someone else had started moving against Luca’s operation.

Or against Valentina directly.

He crouched beside the second body and searched the man’s jacket quickly.

No identification.

Military tattoos partially removed surgically.

Eastern European weapons.

Clean operation.

Very clean.

Too clean.

Adrian’s jaw tightened.

This was escalating faster than expected.

His phone vibrated suddenly inside his coat.

Valentina.

He stared at the screen briefly before answering.

“Tell me you’re alive,” she said immediately.

Something dangerous shifted quietly inside his chest at the sound of genuine fear in her voice.

“I’m alive.”

A sharp exhale reached him through the phone.

“What happened?”

“Two men tried entering the building.”

“And?”

Adrian looked down toward the bodies bleeding across the garage floor.

“It’s handled.”

Silence followed.

Not confused silence.

Understanding silence.

Valentina was too intelligent not to know exactly what that meant now.

“You’re hurt,” she said quietly.

Not a question.

Adrian glanced toward the blood soaking his hand and sleeve. Some belonged to him. Most didn’t.

“No.”

Another pause.

Then softer:

“You sound tired.”

That almost undid him more than the gunfire.

Because nobody had asked whether he was tired in a very long time.

Adrian closed his eyes briefly before answering. “Go upstairs, Valentina. Lock the doors.”

“What about you?”

“I need to clean this up.”

The words sounded colder than intended.

Necessary.

Distance remained necessary.

Especially now.

But Valentina’s voice stopped him before he could hang up.

“Adrian.”

He waited silently.

Then she asked the question quietly enough to hurt.

“How many people have you killed for men like Luca?”

Rain struck concrete harder around him while blood continued dripping slowly from his fingertips.

Finally Adrian looked down at his stained hands and answered honestly.

“Enough that it stopped feeling like survival a long time ago.”