My billionaire mafia husband asked if I could still love him if he never walked again, but before I could answer, a terrifying phone call changed everything...

I didn't hesitate. I threw myself across the catwalk grating, lunging outward as the iron railing groaned under the weight.

My hands locked around Adrian’s wrist just as his braces gave out entirely.

The shock of his weight nearly pulled my shoulders from their sockets. The breath was ripped from my lungs, my ribs slamming hard against the metal edge. Below us, Victor was desperately clinging to Adrian’s trench coat, his legs kicking in empty air above the oil-slicked abyss of the dry dock basin.

"Let go of him, Victor!" I screamed, my fingers slipping on Adrian’s bloody sleeve.

"Claire, let go of me!" Adrian gritted through clenched teeth, his veins bulging on his forehead as he fought the blinding agony tearing through his spine. "You can't hold us both! Let go!"

"Never!" I sobbed, tears blinding me. "I won't let you fall! I will never let you go!"

Victor looked up, his face twisted in madness. He reached up, trying to claw his way up Adrian’s chest to grab the railing. "Pull me up, you bitch! Pull me up or we all die!"

Adrian looked down at Victor. Despite the agony ravaging his body, a terrifying, triumphant coldness returned to his face.

"Goodbye, Victor," Adrian whispered.

With his free hand, Adrian reached down and drew his pocket blade, slicing through the heavy wool belt of his own trench coat.

Victor’s eyes widened in realization. A shriek of pure terror ripped from his throat as the fabric tore away.

He plummeted thirty feet down, hitting the concrete rim of the dry dock basin with a sickening, final thud before sliding lifelessly into the churning black water.

"Mateo!" I screamed, my grip failing, my muscles tearing. "Mateo, help!"

Strong hands suddenly gripped my waist and Adrian’s arm. Mateo, having neutralized the remaining mercenaries, hauled Adrian over the bent railing with a desperate heave, pulling us both onto the safe platform of the catwalk.

Adrian collapsed onto the metal grating, his chest heaving, his legs completely limp and unresponsive once more. His eyes fluttered, half-closed against the unbearable onslaught of physical trauma.

I threw myself over him, sobbing uncontrollably, pressing my face against his bloody chest. His heart was hammering—furious, erratic, but alive.

"I have you," I whispered through my tears, kissing his cheek, his temple, his lips. "I have you, Adrian. It’s over."

His trembling hand rose weakly, his fingers tangling in my hair. "You... you stayed," he breathed, a bloody, exhausted smile touching his mouth.

"Always," I promised. "Forever."

Behind us, Mateo was cutting my mother free. She was bruised and shaken, but as she reached for my hand, her eyes were clear. The nightmare of Warehouse 42 was finished.