The city outside Adrian Blake's penthouse was silent, swallowed by the soft hum of rain against the glass walls. Inside, however, Ayla Khan's thoughts were anything but calm. She stood near the massive floor-to-ceiling window, her fingertips grazing the cold surface as the neon glow of Manhattan blurred in the drizzle.
Behind her, Adrian's presence filled the room—not just his figure leaning casually against the leather armchair, but the weight of his gaze, steady and unrelenting.
"You're quiet tonight," his deep voice finally broke the silence, smooth but edged, as if it carried an unspoken warning.
Ayla didn't turn. "I'm thinking."
"About running?" His tone was soft, almost teasing, but the steel beneath it made her heart skip.
She exhaled, fogging up the glass. "About whether I made a deal with the devil… or someone worse."
Her words hung between them like smoke. For a long moment, the only sound was the rain and the distant buzz of the city below. Then, Adrian moved. In two steps, he was behind her, close enough that she could feel the subtle heat radiating from his body, the faint trace of his cologne threading through the cool air.
"If I were the devil," he murmured near her ear, "you'd already be burning, Ayla."
She stiffened, her breath catching—not from fear, but from the tension that always seemed to simmer between them. Slowly, she turned to face him. The dim lighting softened the hard edges of his face, but his eyes… those piercing steel-gray eyes… they held something unreadable. Something dangerous.
"Maybe I already am," she whispered, though her voice trembled slightly.
Adrian's jaw tightened. For a heartbeat, they stood there, locked in a silence heavy with electricity. Then, almost as if surrendering to something neither could deny, he reached up and brushed a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. His touch was deliberate, slow. Ayla's pulse pounded in her ears.
"This isn't what you signed up for, is it?" His tone was low, almost regretful.
"No," she admitted, her voice barely audible. "But neither is whatever this is." Her gaze flicked between his eyes and his lips, conflicted.
For a moment, the carefully built walls around Adrian seemed to crack. His hand lingered against her cheek, his thumb grazing her skin as if memorizing it. The distance between them shrank, their breaths mingling.
Just as their lips were about to meet, a faint click echoed from somewhere in the penthouse.
Adrian froze instantly. His entire demeanor shifted—from intimate to alert, predatory. Ayla felt it, the sudden tension radiating off him.
"What was that?" she whispered, her hand instinctively clutching his sleeve.
Adrian's gaze darted toward the hallway, his expression hardening. "Stay behind me."
Before she could respond, the lights flickered—once, twice—then stabilized. A second click followed, this time louder, closer.
Adrian moved with a precision that spoke of experience, pulling Ayla subtly behind him as he reached into the inside pocket of his tailored jacket. To her shock, he withdrew a sleek black handgun, its metallic sheen glinting under the low light.
Her breath caught. "Adrian… why do you even have that?"
His eyes flicked to hers, cold and sharp. "Because I know when someone's about to make a move. And tonight… they already have."
Before Ayla could process his words, the penthouse security alarm beeped—a muted, urgent signal. Adrian tapped his watch, silencing it immediately, but the grim look on his face told her everything she needed to know.
"We're not alone," he muttered.
A shadow shifted near the far end of the hallway. The faintest creak of a floorboard betrayed an intruder.
Adrian's arm tightened protectively around Ayla as he angled his body toward the sound. "Whoever you are, you have ten seconds to rethink this," he called out, his voice calm but lethal.
Silence.
Then, a distorted voice from the shadows. "Blake. You should've stayed in your world. Now, she pays the price."
Ayla's blood ran cold. Her?
Before she could react, the figure lunged from the shadows. The room erupted in chaos—Adrian firing a warning shot that shattered a crystal vase, Ayla stumbling back as the intruder charged.
But just as Adrian moved to intercept, Ayla's eyes caught something—on the floor near the doorway, half-hidden by the rug. A small flash drive, sleek and ominous, marked with the same corporate insignia she'd seen on Adrian's private documents.
Her heart stopped. This wasn't random. Whoever these people were, they weren't just after Adrian.
They were after something he'd been hiding. Something big.
As Adrian tackled the intruder, disarming them with terrifying efficiency, Ayla knelt and snatched the flash drive. Her fingers trembled as she slipped it into her pocket, unseen.
When the attacker finally bolted, disappearing into the stairwell, Adrian spun toward her. "Are you hurt?"
She shook her head, adrenaline surging. "I'm fine."
But inside, her mind was racing. She had questions—too many questions.
And now, a dangerous little secret burning a hole in her pocket.
Whatever Adrian Blake was tangled in… she wasn't just a bystander anymore. She was part of it.