His to protect

The father's judgement

CHAPTER FOUR:

We hit the ground hard.

My shoulder took most of the impact, pain exploded through my arm, white-hot and blinding. I rolled, gasping, trying to breathe through it.

Adrian landed beside me, on his side. On his injuries. He made a sound I'd never heard from him before.

"Get up," he rasped. "Get up now."

I couldn't, couldn't move, couldn't think past the pain radiating through my shoulder and back.

Shouting from above. Flashlight beams cutting through the darkness.

Adrian grabbed my good arm, hauled me to my feet. I screamed, couldn't help it. Everything hurts.

"Run," he said.

We ran down the alley, away from my building, away from my life. My feet pounded against the pavement, my lungs burned. I didn't look back.

Adrian's grip on my arm was the only thing keeping me moving. He was wounded, bleeding again .I could see it, dark stains spreading across his shirt, but he didn't slow down.

We turned a corner, another corner into a parking garage.

Adrian pulled me behind a concrete pillar, pressed me against it. Put a finger to his lips.

Footsteps echoed through the garage.

"I know you're here, Volkov," someone called out. The voice bounced off the concrete. Just give us the girl and walk away.

This doesn't have to end badly for you.

Adrian's hand moved to his gun, his other hand stood on my arm.

"She's nothing," the voice continued. "Just some nurse who got unlucky. Let her go. We'll make it quick."

My heart hammered so hard I thought they'd hear it, thought it would give us away.

Adrian leaned close, his breath warm against my ear. "When I move, you run. Straight to the exit, don't stop, don't look back."

"No," I whispered.

"Not a debate."

He stepped out from behind the pillar.

Three shots rang out, I flinched. Covered my ears.

More shots. The sound was enormous.

Then silence.

Adrian reappeared, blood on his face. He grabbed my hand.

"Now."

We ran for the exit, burst out onto the street. A car screeched to a stop in front of us. Black SUV, windows tinted.

"Get in," someone yelled from inside.

Adrian didn't hesitate, threw open the back door, pushed me inside and climbed in after me.

The car took off before the door even closed.

I twisted around, I looked at Adrian. He was slumped against the seat, eyes closed, breathing shallowly.

"Is he…" I started.

"He'll live," the driver said, gruff voice.

Thick accent. "You're lucky we were close."

"Who are you?"

"Friend."

I looked at Adrian, at the blood soaking through his shirt. By the way, his face had gone gray.

"He needs a hospital."

"No hospitals," the driver said.

"He's dying."

"He's been dying for twenty years. Hasn't managed it yet."

We drove in silence. Ten minutes. Twenty.

I lost track, just watched Adrian breathe.

Counted each rise and fall of his chest.

The car finally stopped. Warehouse district, empty buildings and broken streetlights.

The driver got out, opened Adrian's door. Together, we got him out of the car. He was barely conscious, his weight was almost too much.

We dragged him inside. The warehouse was massive. Empty except for a few crates and a chair in the center and a man sitting in the chair.

He stood when he saw us, tall, gray hair, and an expensive suit.

"Adrian." His voice was cold.

Disappointed. "Look at you."

Adrian raised his head, focused on the man with visible effort.

"Father."

My blood went cold.

The man looked at me, his eyes were the same color as Adrian's. The same cold calculation.

"And who is this?"

"No one," Adrian said. "Let her go."

"No one?" The man circled us slowly. "You risked everything for no one? Killed six of my men for no one?"

"Your men?" I looked at Adrian. "What is he talking about?"

Adrian didn't answer, didn't look at me.

The man smiled. "He didn't tell you? Of course, he didn't." He stopped in front of me. "Adrian works for me, has for fifteen years and lately, he's been skimming, stealing from his own family."

"That's not…" Adrian started.

"Quiet." The word cracked like a whip. Adrian fell silent.

The man turned back to me. "You saved his life tonight, how unfortunate for both of you."

He pulled out a gun.

Pointed it at my head.

"Wait," Adrian said. His voice was stronger now. "I'll give it back, all of it. Just let her go."

"Oh, you'll give it back, but she's seen too much, knows too much." The man c****d the gun. "Say goodbye, Adrian."

"I'll take her place."

Everyone froze.

"What?" the man said.

"Let her go. I'll take whatever punishment you want. I'll…" Adrian's voice broke.

"Please father. Please."

The man stared at his son. For a long moment, nobody moved.

Then he lowered the gun.

"Fine. She lives, but you?" He holstered the weapon. "You're done. You understand? After tonight, you're nothing.

No family, no protection, no empire.

Adrian nodded. "I understand."

"Get her out of my sight."

The driver grabbed my arm, started pulling me toward the door.

"Wait," I said. "Adrian…"

"Go," he said without looking at me.

"I can't just…"

"Go!"

The driver dragged me outside, shoved me into the car.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"Your problem now." He threw something at me, a phone. "He'll contact you maybe If he survives."

"What's going to happen to him?"

The driver looked at me in the rearview mirror, his expression was grim.

"Nothing good."

He drove me back to my neighborhood, dropped me three blocks from my building. Drove away before I could ask anything else.

I stood on the empty street alone, shaking. Covered in blood that wasn't mine.

My apartment was a crime scene, my life was in shambles and somewhere out there, Adrian was paying the price for saving me.

I looked at the phone in my hand, cheap. Disposable. One number is saved in the contacts.

“A”.

I walked home, my real home. The apartment I couldn't go back to. I stood across the street, I watched police lights flash in my window, I watched them carry bodies out in bags.

Two men died because I'd helped someone.

My phone buzzed, the disposable one. A text.

I'm sorry.

I stared at the message ,started typing a response, and deleted it. Started again.

Finally sent: Are you okay?

Three dots appeared, disappeared, appeared again.

Then: No.

Another message: But I will be. Stay away from me, forget what happened, forget me.

I typed back: I can't.

No response.

I waited, five minutes, ten. Nothing, I turned to walk away.

Behind me, glass shattered, I spun around.

My apartment window. Someone had thrown something through it.

I ran. I didn't think, I just ran across the street, up the stairs, past the police tape.

"Ma'am, you can't…" an officer started.

I pushed past him into my apartment.

There was a brick on my floor, wrapped in paper, so I picked it up. Unfolded it.

A photo of me, taken tonight, running from my building with Adrian.

And written across it in red marker:

We know where you live, we know where you work, we know everything. He can't protect you anymore.

You have 48 hours to disappear, or we'll do it for you.