bChapter 245 /b

    ADRIAN’S POV

    “You must be his bodyguard,” I said as the man walked in holding a rifle, though something about him immediately made me second–guess that assumption. His clothing didn’t match the sleek, fitted suit most professional security wore. Instead, he wore all ck, the fabric thick and loose, his facepletely hidden behind a dark ski mask. The air in the room seemed to grow colder the moment his boots stepped onto the carpet.

    tilted my head slightly, studying him. Do bodyguards wear masks to hide their faces? Not unless they have something to

    hide.

    “Who told you I was a bodyguard?” His voice was sharp, aggressive, and there was a dangerous edge to it, one that instantly raised every instinct in me. He stepped forward, the muzzle of his rifle tracking me with precision. “Hands up in

    the air. Now.”

    A humorless chuckle escaped me before I could stop it. I nced over his shoulder, almost expecting someone else to step in and exin the absurdity of what I was seeing. “Is this some kind of joke? If so, you can stop now. I have someone l

    need to speak to,” I said, taking a step forward toward the door.

    The sharp click of metal sliding into ce stopped me cold. He’d cocked the weapon, his finger tightening on the trigger. I

    froze mid–step.

    “I dare you to take one more step if you think this is a joke,” he said, his tone dropping to something lethal.

    That was when the truth mmed into me like ice water. This wasn’t a bodyguard. This wasn’t a drill. My head turned slowly toward Charlie, who was sitting frozen in the corner, his small body trembling, his wide eyes glistening with tears.

    The fear on his face was raw and real.

    I looked back at the masked man, my voice calmer now, deliberate. “Okay… okay, I’ll cooperate. What do you want?” My hands rose slowly into the air, my mind already racing through possibilities.

    He didn’t lower the gun. “Both of you,e with me,” he ordered, his tone brooking no argument. “And you’d better talk to this kid, because if he makes any funny move or tries to run, I’ll drop him on the spot. And that goes for you too.” His voice cut through the air like a de.

    The threat wasn’t idle. I could tell by the way he kept his stance steady, that he wouldn’t hesitate to kill children, his rifle

    never wavering.

    That was when the noise started filtering in from beyond the hallway. Faint at first, but growing louder–the unmistakable sounds of panic. Screams. Shouts. The chaotic shuffle of hurried footsteps.

    I didn’t need to guess what it meant. There were others. This wasn’t just an isted encounter–this was an organized hit. ke Enterprises is being robbed, I realized, my stomach tightening.

    I cleared my throat and forced my voice into something steady and reassuring for Charlie’s sake. “Okay, so… we’re going to meet your mom, alright?” I said, crouching slightly so I could meet his tear–filled eyes. “Just remain calm and don’t do anything sudden. I’m right hereb, /band I’m not going anywhere,”

    Charlie’s small hand trembled as it reached for mine. The moment his palm pressed into mine, I tightened my grip–not

    09:39 Sat, 30 Augu.

    too much, but enough for him to know I wasn’t letting go. He nodded silently, though his lower lip quivered.

    The masked man gestured toward the hallway with a curt motion of his rifle. “Move,” he barked.

    ★ 52%

    The door felt heavier as I pushed it open. Beyond it, the hallway seemed longer than before, every shadow stretching unnaturally under the dim overhead lights. My senses sharpened, and I could hear the faint hum of the air vents, the squeak of Charlie’s sneakers on the floor, the steady sound of the masked man’s boots following close behind us.

    1 fought the urge to nce back. I knew exactly what I’d see–a rifle pointed at us, waiting for an excuse to fire. Right now, the safest thing to do is move forward, step by slow step.

    With Charlie’s small hand in mine and the masked man’s shadow looming over us, we began walking down the hallway, not daring to look back.

    How did this happen?

    Was this nned from the very beginning?

    The thought mmed into me like cold water, making my mind spin in a dozen directions at once. This wasn’t some random mess that just fell out of the sky–no, this had the stench of preparation all over it. The kind of thing you set in motion weeks, maybe months, in advance.

    And then another memory hit me–sharp and unwee. The “emergency” I’d seen earlier. The security guard who had rushed past me, hand pressed to his earpiece, was walking fast but tense. Was that connected to this? Had it been the first sign that something was going down and I’d just ignored it?

    Why hasn’t anyone called the police yet?

    The question gnawed at me. My phone was still in my pocket, and it would take less than a second to slip my hand in and dial 911, but the moment I even twitched wrong, this guy behind us would happily put a bullet in my back. And judging from the way he’d been gripping that rifle, his finger was itching to pull the trigger.

    Maybe that was why no one had called yet. If there were more of them inside, each armed and stationed strategically, then every hostage in that main hall was keeping quiet for a reason. And thank God–thank God–I hadn’t heard a single gunshot yet. That meant James was still okay. Hopefully, Olivia was too… and all the other civilians.

    This was an open ceremony. People were meant toe and go freely. If the robbers had been approaching from outside with masks, rifles, and bad intentions, the doorman would have seen theming from a mile away and sounded the rm before they even reached the doors. Which meant one thing….

    They’d gotten inside first

    They’d probablye in looking like regr guests, smiling, holding champagne sses, making small talk, and only when they were inside had they changed into their gear, masks on, weapons drawn. Then they’d sealed off the exits and locked the ce down from the inside/

    Smart.

    Dirty, but smart.

    I recognized the pattern. I’d used simr strategies before. Not me personally, of course–not my hands on the trigger–but

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    Sat,

    52%

    my people. My own team of mercenaries and enforcers had done things not too different from this under the leadership of Dan. Which made it worse, because I knew exactly how dangerous these men could be when they’d had the time to n.

    So yeah–this was no coincidence. This was a job, mapped out in detail.

    I let out a small, slow sigh as we kept moving down the hallway. My mind shed back ito /iJames telling me more than once that I should take those taekwondo sses. I’d alwaysughed it off. Too busy. Too important. Now, in this moment, I wish I’d listened.

    I could feel Charlie’s small hand trembling in mine, his skin mmy, his little knuckles tight like he was holding onto me for dear life. This was the fear I’d seen in his eyes earlier. The fear he had been trying to hide under that brave little front when I first met him.

    I leaned down just enough so my voice would reach only him. “Hey,” I whispered, keeping my tone steady and warm, “everything’s gonna be okay. There’s no need to be scared. You’re gonna be fine. Your mom will be fine itoo/i.”

    Before Charlie could even react, the man behind us barked out, “Hey! No talking. Just keep moving.” His voice was sharp, but I caught the faint edge of unease in it too.

    I straightened again, my jaw tightening. Why did I feel so helpless in a situation like this? Probably because this was my first time on the wrong end of the barrel. I’d been in rooms where I was the one with the leverage, the control, the cards in my hand. Now the table was flipped, and I hated it.

    The guy behind us should be thanking his stars. The only reason I hadn’t spun around, tackled him, and ripped that rifle from his hands was the small, terrified boy walking beside me. I could take him. I knew it. He wasn’t that big, and his stance screamed “amateur with a gun” more than a trained soldier. But all it would take was one twitch of his finger during the struggle, and that bullet could tear through Charlie before I even knew it.

    I risked a nce over my shoulder. The gun’s muzzle was close–too close. If I lunged, I could grab it, maybe jam it upward, shove him into the wall, but the risk… the risk was too damn high. Charlie’s safety came first.

    So I kept walking.

    One slowi, /itense step at a time.

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