Part 10
The safehouse door slammed open.
Emma burst inside, soaked in rain and sweat, her breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps.
Adrian was standing near the table, holding a shotgun he had taken from the wall, his face pale from the exertion of holding his body upright.
The moment he saw her, his posture relaxed slightly, though his eyes remained hyper-focused.
"I heard gunfire in the distance," Adrian said, his voice tight. "What happened?"
"Volkov's men," Emma panted, rushing to the table and dumping the medicine boxes. "They were at the pharmacy. They saw the Romano crest on his blanket. I... I shot one. In the leg. Through my jacket."
Adrian’s eyebrows raised slightly.
A flash of genuine respect passed through his dark eyes.
"You shot a Volkov soldier?"
"I didn't have a choice," Emma whispered, her hands shaking violently as she tore open the box of infant Tylenol. "He was going to take Leo."
She forced her terror into a dark corner of her mind, focusing entirely on the task at hand.
She measured the precise dose of the liquid medicine using the plastic syringe.
"Hold his head," Emma commanded Adrian.
The mafia don didn't hesitate. He sat on the edge of the cot, gently stabilizing his son’s head while Emma slipped the syringe into the side of Leo's mouth, slowly releasing the sweet, pink liquid.
Leo swallowed, coughing slightly, but he kept it down.
Next, Emma used the saline drops and the bulb syringe to carefully clear his congested nasal passages.
Within ten minutes, the rattling in the baby's chest began to soften.
The medicine began to work, cooling his skin.
His breathing slowed, turning into a peaceful, rhythmic purr.
He was safe.
For now.
Emma sank into a plastic chair, the adrenaline completely leaving her body. She buried her face in her hands and began to shake.
The reality of what she had done finally caught up to her.
She was a fugitive. A criminal. A target.
Adrian watched her from the cot. He reached out and placed a heavy, warm hand on her shoulder.
"Emma," he said quietly.
She looked up, her eyes red and filled with tears.
"You did what was necessary to protect a child," Adrian said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "There is no sin in that. In my world, that makes you a warrior."
"I don't want to be a warrior," she sobbed. "I just wanted to save him."
"And you did," Adrian said.
He leaned back, his eyes hardening as he looked at the wall of weapons.
"But now, Volkov knows we are in the area. The pharmacy shooting will trace back to this sector within an hour. They will flood these streets."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, silver tracking device he had retrieved from the safehouse safe.
He flicked a switch on it.
A tiny green light began to blink.
"What is that?" Emma asked.
"An emergency beacon," Adrian replied. "It signals my personal strike team—the men who are loyal only to me, not the syndicate. They will be here in twenty minutes."
He looked at her, his expression deadly serious.
"The defensive phase of this night is over, Emma. Volkov took my money, he took my ledger, and he tried to take my son."
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He picked up a fresh magazine and slammed it into his pistol with a loud, definitive click.
"Now, I am going to take his life."
