His Captive Attorney

Chapter 4: Max

​Rain drummed a frantic war beat against the armored roof of the SUV as Sienna cut the headlights, gliding the vehicle into the narrow, trash-strewn alley behind 84th Street.

​In the back seat, Valeria’s chest rose and fell in ragged, shallow breaths. The pale glow of distant streetlamps reflected through the rain-streaked glass, illuminating the fierce, desperate resolve burning behind her eyes. She was terrified, but she wasn't breaking. That iron backbone was the exact reason I hadn't been able to get her out of my mind for ten long years.

​"Sienna, maintain perimeter watch and keep the engine idling," I instructed, checking the magazine on the heavy black tactical sidearm I’d retrieved from the glove box. "If NYPD responds to gunshots before we clear the floor, create a distraction at the south intersection."

​"Understood," Sienna replied, her fingers hovering over the custom control panel. "Fire escape door on the third floor is prepped. Internal sensors show four targets inside unit 4B. Heavy body armor, silenced hardware. They’re sweeping the perimeter rooms now."

​"Max," Valeria breathed, grabbing my shoulder from the back seat. Her grip was surprisingly strong, her knuckles white through her rumpled suit jacket. "If anything happens to Mateo—"

​I turned, reaching up to cover her cold hand with mine. I squeezed once, hard enough to bring her frantic focus back to my eyes.

​"Your brother breathes as long as I do, Valeria," I said, my voice dropping into an absolute, unshakeable promise. "Put this on right now."

​I tossed a low-profile Kevlar vest into her lap. She didn't hesitate or argue. With swift, practiced motions, she pulled the heavy vest over her silk blouse, pulling the side velcro straps tight against her ribs until it fit snug against her torso.

​"Stay tight to my shadow," I growled, checking her straps once. "You don't breathe without my permission, and if I tell you to drop, you hit the floor. Got it?"

​"I hear you," she whispered, her dark eyes flashing with a dangerous, electric light. "Now let's go get my brother."

​I kicked open the passenger door and slid out into the pouring rain, the cold water drenching my dark shirt within seconds.

Valeria scrambled out right behind me, her feet secure in the cinched tactical shoes I had given her. We hit the steel rungs of the fire escape, moving silently up the wet, rust-slicked metal, ascending three stories in seconds until we reached the service entrance window outside Unit 4B.

​The heavy oak door to Valeria's apartment had been violently kicked inward, splintering off its heavy brass hinges. The interior hallway was completely dark, the building's central circuit breakers disabled from the basement. The air drifting from the apartment smelled of ozone, wood dust, and wet canvas.

​I held up a hand, signaling Valeria to freeze against the brick wall behind me.

​Through the shattered doorway, the low, muffled voices of Klaus’s hit team carried into the corridor, accompanied by the sweeping beams of high-intensity tactical flashlights cutting through the gloom.

​"Server's clean," a voice with a cold, Germanic accent muttered. "The kid wiped the local drive before he locked himself in the back room. Search the master bathroom."

​"Use the breaching charge," another voice ordered. "We don't have time to pick locks. Eisenhardt wants the kid's body dumped in the Hudson before sunrise."

​A violent surge of adrenaline hit my bloodstream, sharp and electric. I slipped the red-light pen into my mouth, bit down lightly, and checked the hallway angle.

​Four men. Two standing near the ruined foyer, one guarding the kitchen entrance, and the leader standing directly outside the locked bathroom door at the end of the hall, holding a commercial door-breaching pack.

​I leaned back, looking at Valeria in the dim shadows. "Hold your ears," I whispered.

​Before she could respond, I stepped out from the shadows of the frame, raising my suppressed firearm into a low-ready stance.

​Thwip. Thwip.

​Two heavy rounds struck the rear guard in the side of his exposed neck before he could even register my presence. He collapsed against the drywall, sliding down in a dark smear of blood.

​The man in the kitchen turned, his submachine gun swinging upward, but I was already closing the distance in two explosive strides. I drove my left hand upward into his throat, crushing his windpipe, and pivoted behind his falling body just as the leader at the end of the hallway fired a wild burst of suppressed rounds.

​Pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft!

​The heavy bullets tore into my human shield, the kinetic impact reverberating through my arms. I reached over the dead man's shoulder, aligning my sight with the lead operative's chest plate, and squeezed the trigger twice.

​Thwip. Thwip.

​The heavy rounds shattered his front plate, knocking him backward against the bathroom door. He hit the hardwood floor with a heavy groan, clutching his chest as his weapon clattered away.

​The fourth operative—the one holding the breaching pack—panicked. He dropped the explosive, drew his sidearm, and lunged toward the dark living room for cover. I raised my weapon, tracking his movement through the gloom, and put a single round clean through the back of his skull. He dropped instantly, crashing over a glass coffee table in a shower of shattered fragments.

​Silence collapsed back over the apartment, heavy, thick, and suffocating. The air was dense with the metallic stench of iron, cordite, and dust.

​"Valeria, clear," I called out softly, keeping my weapon raised as I checked the bodies on the floor.

​Valeria rushed through the shattered doorway, her eyes wide as she navigated the blood-splattered hardwood floor. She didn't look at the corpses. She ran straight down the hallway, stepping over the lead operative who was still gasping for air, and slammed her palms against the heavy bathroom door.

​"Mateo!" she screamed, her voice cracking with pure, unadulterated desperation.

"Mateo, it's me! It's Val! Open the door!"

​For two agonizing seconds, there was absolute silence from inside the room. Then came the frantic, metallic scraping of a deadbolt sliding back.

​The door swung open. Mateo stood in the doorway, pale as a sheet, clutching a blood-stained laptop to his chest like a shield. His eyes were wide with wild terror, his breathing fast and ragged.

​"Val!" he sobbed, dropping the laptop and throwing his arms around her neck.

​Valeria collapsed against him, pulling her younger brother into a fierce, suffocating embrace, burying her face in his shoulder.

Her entire body shook as she wept silently, her hands clutching the back of his shirt as if proving to herself he was truly real and breathing.

​"I've got you," she whispered over and over, her sharp, unyielding corporate mask completely crumbling into raw, protective devotion. "I've got you, Mateo. You're safe now."

​I stood at the end of the hall, leaning against the doorframe, watching them. A strange, unfamiliar warmth tugged at the dark corners of my chest—a sensation I hadn't felt since my sister was taken from me ten years ago. Valeria was a lioness when it came to her family, and seeing her like this, vulnerable and fiercely protective, sent a possessive spike straight through my core.

​I was going to burn the world down before I let anyone touch her again.

​"He's... he's still breathing," Mateo stammered, pointing a shaking finger at the lead operative groaning on the floor near their feet. "Val... who are these people? What is happening?"

​I stepped forward, my boots squelching slightly against the blood-stained floorboards. I grabbed the wounded lead operative by the collar of his tactical vest, dragging his heavy frame up until his head slammed against the wall. Blood was bubbling from his chest wound, staining his teeth.

​"Who sent you?" I asked, my voice dropping into a cold, terrifying whisper that made Mateo flinch. "Was it Klaus, or did the syndicate handle this directly?"

​"It... doesn't matter, Von Stein," the man rasped out, gasping for air as he glared at me. "You're... already too late."

​I pressed the red-hot barrel of my suppressed sidearm directly against his open chest wound. "Give me a reason not to pull this trigger."

​"The... the prosecutor," the man choked out, his eyes rolling back from the sheer pain.

"Klaus... used his contacts at the US Attorney's office ten minutes ago. An emergency federal arrest warrant... and automated flash-alert just went live for Valeria. They... they framed her for her father's embezzled accounts."

​Valeria froze. She slowly stood up, turning to face me, her face drained of all color as the crushing weight of his words settled in.

The legal world she had built her life around had just been weaponized against her.

​"What?" she breathed, her voice trembling.

​"You're not an attorney anymore, Counselor," the dying man whispered, letting out a horrific, wheezing laugh. "You're a federal fugitive."

​I pulled the trigger, executing him silently, and stood up in one fluid motion as his body went limp.

​Outside, the faint, rising wail of NYPD sirens began to echo through the rain-slicked avenues of Upper Manhattan, closing in on the building from every direction.

​I turned to Valeria, stepping directly into her personal space, trapping her wide, terrified gaze with mine. "We have ninety seconds before Ortega's men breach the lobby."

​Valeria stared at me, her hands still holding Mateo's trembling arm. The legal system she had served for a decade had just slammed the door in her face and branded her a target.

​"Where do we go?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the approaching sirens.

​I reached out, wrapping my hand firmly around her waist, pulling her flush against my chest as I looked down into her eyes.

​"Into the shadows, Valeria," I purred softly, my dark eyes gleaming with absolute, unyielding possession. "Welcome to my world."