“Hello, Cassia.” Five Years After She Disappeared, the Crime Boss Walked Into Her Café and Found...

Explosions rocked the foundation of the estate.

The heavy glass windows of the library vibrated violently as a plume of fire erupted near the outer gatehouse. Distant automatic gunfire tore through the quiet night air.

“Get Cassia and Arya to the panic room!” Adrian roared into his comms, pulling a heavy tactical pistol from a hidden drawer beneath his desk.

Cassia didn't hesitate. She ran out of the library and sprinted up the stairs toward the West Wing.

The hallways were filled with the sharp flashes of emergency red lighting. Security guards in tactical gear were moving quickly toward the lower level, weapons raised.

Cassia slammed open the bedroom door. Arya was already sitting up in bed, rubbing her eyes, terrified by the loud booms shaking the house.

“Mommy! What is that noise?” Arya cried, her little voice trembling.

“It’s okay, baby! It’s just thunder!” Cassia yelled over another explosion, wrapping Arya in her blanket and scooping her up into her arms.

She rushed out into the hallway, heading toward the fortified reinforced elevator that led to the basement panic room.

Suddenly, a heavy blast blew open the high stained-glass window at the end of the corridor. Glass rained down like diamond dust.

Three men dressed in black tactical gear swung down from ropes attached to the roof, landing heavily on the marble floor. They raised submachine guns.

Cassia ducked behind a heavy oak pillar, pressing Arya’s face into her chest.

“Target secured! She’s here!” one of the men yelled in Russian.

Before they could advance, a barrage of gunfire echoed from the main staircase. Two of the attackers crumpled to the floor instantly.

Adrian charged down the hallway like a demon unleashed, firing his sidearm with deadly, terrifying precision. He moved with fluid, lethal grace, dropping the third attacker with a clean shot to the chest before the man could pull his trigger.

Adrian reached Cassia, pulling her and Arya behind his broad frame.

“The panic room elevator is compromised! They blew the power grid!” Adrian yelled over the ringing alarms. “We go to the storm cellar through the wine vault!”

“Adrian, there are too many of them!” Cassia shouted, seeing flashes of gunfire down in the main foyer.

“They brought thirty men,” Adrian said grimly, ejecting an empty magazine and slapping a fresh one into his pistol. “Lev spent everything he had to buy this assault team. He’s pushing all his chips into the middle.”

“Then we kill his hand,” Cassia said, her eyes flashing with a fiercely dangerous light that Adrian hadn't seen since the days she helped him navigate his father’s inner court.

Adrian looked at her, a dark, proud smile touching his lips despite the chaos. “Ivan! Hold the upper landing! Mikhail, sweep the lower vault!”

They moved swiftly down the service stairwell, descending deep into the bedrock beneath the estate where the stone wine vaults were built.

The air grew cold and damp. Heavy iron doors provided a natural barrier against the assault above.

Adrian ushered Cassia and Arya into the innermost vault—a windowless room framed by three-foot-thick stone walls and a reinforced steel door.

“Stay inside,” Adrian instructed, putting his hands on Cassia’s shoulders. “The door locks from the inside. Once I close it, do not open it for anyone except me or Ivan.”

“No!” Cassia cried, gripping his tactical vest. “Adrian, don't go back out there! Stay with us!”

“Lev is out there, Cassia,” Adrian said, his gray eyes burning with an absolute, terrifying finality. “If I stay in here, he will blow this door and kill us all. I have to end this tonight. For you. For Arya.”

Arya reached out from behind Cassia, her tiny hand grabbing Adrian’s bloody finger. “Don't go, tall man.”

Adrian dropped to his knees, looking at his daughter. He took her tiny hand and kissed her knuckles gently. “I’m coming back, Barnaby’s mother. I promise.”

He looked up at Cassia, pulled her face down, and pressed his lips to hers in a deep, desperate, lingering kiss that tasted of rain, gunpowder, and five years of unspoken love.