The city was still half-asleep when Adrian guided Ann through the back door of the mansion. The sky was heavy with dawn, bruised purple and gray, as if it too had witnessed the blood spilled in their foyer.
Ann shivered inside Adrian's jacket. The overnight bag bounced against her hip with every hurried step. She kept glancing over her shoulder, half-expecting Leo's dead eyes to appear in the shadows.
Adrian's hand tightened around hers every time she slowed. He didn't speak, but his grip told her everything — stay close, don't look back, I'll kill for you again if I have to.
They reached the garage. Adrian's black SUV waited, engine already running. Beside it, Thomas — Adrian's right hand — stood with his usual stone-faced calm, but even his eyes betrayed a flicker of unease.
"Everything's ready?" Adrian asked, voice hoarse from hours of barking orders.
"Yes, sir," Thomas said. "Route's clear. Phones are wiped. No trackers." He glanced at Ann and gave a stiff nod, a soldier's attempt at kindness. "Mrs. Kingston."
Ann managed a small, tight smile. "Thomas."
Adrian opened the passenger door for her. She climbed in, clutching the bag like a child with a teddy bear.
Thomas stepped closer to Adrian, lowering his voice. "You're sure about the cabin?"
"It's isolated. We have supplies for weeks," Adrian replied, eyes scanning the driveway. "We stay off-grid until I say otherwise."
Thomas hesitated. "And the cleanup here?"
Adrian's eyes hardened. "Burn it down if you have to. No evidence. No ghosts."
Thomas gave a single nod and stepped back. Adrian slid into the driver's seat and slammed the door shut.
As they pulled away from the mansion — their fortress now a crime scene — Ann watched through the tinted window. She expected to feel relief. Instead, she felt like she was leaving a piece of herself behind.
The highway cut through empty countryside, mile after mile of asphalt and thick forest. Adrian drove fast but controlled, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on Ann's knee like a tether.
Neither spoke for the first hour. Words felt dangerous, like they might break the fragile shell of calm they'd wrapped around themselves.
Eventually, Ann shifted to face him. "Where are we going, really?"
Adrian didn't take his eyes off the road. "A cabin in the mountains. My mother used to take me there when I was a boy. No cell towers, no neighbors. Just us."
She swallowed. "And after that?"
His jaw tightened. "After that, we plan. We watch. We strike back."
She studied his profile — the sharp line of his nose, the bruise blooming on his jaw where Leo's man had swung at him. The man she loved was a ghost in his own life — always half a second away from violence. And now she was part of it.
"Adrian," she whispered, "what if they follow us?"
He flicked his gaze to her, dark eyes softening for the briefest moment. "Then they'll regret it."
She didn't ask him how. She already knew the answer.
By late afternoon, the SUV turned off the main highway onto a dirt road that twisted through dense pines. The cabin appeared like a ghost out of the trees — two stories of old timber and stone, its windows dark, its porch sagging under the weight of forgotten years.
Adrian killed the engine and sat still for a moment. Ann reached for his hand. He laced his fingers through hers, squeezing hard enough to ground them both.
"Come on," he murmured. "Let's get inside."
Inside, the cabin smelled of cedar and cold ashes. Adrian flicked on the generator — old lights flickered to life, casting the living room in a pale, ghostly glow. Ann dropped her bag near the fireplace and turned in a slow circle.
It wasn't much — battered furniture, a stone hearth, faded curtains that looked older than she was. But it was safe. Or at least safer than the city crawling with wolves.
Adrian busied himself checking windows, locks, hidden compartments. Ann found a box of matches and lit the fireplace, watching the flames catch like hope reborn.
When he finally stopped moving, he crossed the room and sank to his knees in front of her. He pressed his forehead to her thigh, arms wrapping around her waist like he needed to anchor himself to her body just to breathe.
"I'm sorry," he murmured into her jeans. "For dragging you into this. For not stopping it sooner."
Ann cupped his face, tilting it up until he looked at her. His eyes were red, raw with exhaustion. "Stop apologizing for loving me," she whispered. "I'm here because I choose to be."
He kissed her then — a slow, aching kiss that tasted of woodsmoke and secrets. For a moment, there was no Leo, no family, no blood on the foyer tiles. Just Ann and Adrian, two broken people clinging to the last thing they had left.
Night fell like a heavy curtain. They ate a cold dinner — canned soup and stale bread. Adrian insisted on keeping the lights off except for the fire. He sat in an armchair by the window, gun on the table, eyes flicking to the dark tree line every few seconds.
Ann curled up on the couch, fighting sleep. Her eyes drifted to the framed photo on the mantle — a young boy with Adrian's eyes, standing next to a woman with the same cruel jawline. His mother.
She wondered if she'd loved him or broken him first.
A sharp knock shattered the silence. Once. Twice. Then again.
Ann jolted upright. Adrian was already on his feet, gun raised, finger on the trigger.
"Stay there," he ordered.
"Adrian—"
"Stay. There."
He moved to the door, peered through the peephole. His shoulders tensed.
A voice floated through the wood — muffled but unmistakable. "Adrian? It's Thomas."
Relief flooded Ann's chest. But Adrian didn't lower the gun.
"Thomas?" Adrian called back. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Boss, we have to move you again. Now. They tracked your car — they'll be here in under an hour."
Ann shot to her feet. Her heart hammered. "Adrian—"
"Quiet," he snapped without turning.
Thomas's voice came again, a little more urgent. "Open the door. We don't have time!"
Adrian's eyes flicked to Ann — then back to the door. Slowly, he flipped the lock. The door swung open, revealing Thomas — alone, winded, snowflakes melting on his shoulders.
"Boss, we have to—"
The gunshot was deafening in the tiny cabin.
For a heartbeat, Ann thought it came from Adrian. But it hadn't. It came from Thomas.
Adrian staggered back, clutching his side, crimson blooming between his fingers.
Thomas stepped inside, calm as ever, the smoking gun still in his hand.
Ann screamed. "Thomas—what are you—"
He didn't look at her. His eyes were locked on Adrian, cold, loyal no longer. "You should've listened to Leo, boss. The old wolves never wanted her dead. They wanted you gone."
Adrian laughed — a wet, broken sound as he sank to his knees. "So you sold me out?"
Thomas shrugged. "Family's family. You forgot that."
Ann stumbled forward, but Thomas raised the gun at her. "Don't, Mrs. Kingston. Sit. Down."
Adrian's eyes met hers — glassy but blazing with something primal. Run, they said. Fight.
Ann's hands curled into fists at her sides. The fireplace crackled behind her, casting monstrous shadows across the cabin walls.
Thomas stepped closer to Adrian, aiming the gun at his head. "Any last words, boss?"
Adrian bared his teeth in a bloody grin. "Yeah." His eyes flicked to Ann. "Duck."
Ann dropped to the floor just as Adrian lunged, slamming into Thomas's knees. The gun fired — wild, useless. They crashed to the floor, a tangle of fists and snarls.
Ann scrambled to her feet. Her eyes darted to the fire poker near the hearth. She grabbed it, her hands slick with sweat.
Thomas slammed Adrian's head into the floor. Adrian's groan of pain made something inside Ann snap.
She swung the poker. It connected with Thomas's skull with a sickening crack. He slumped forward, stunned. Adrian didn't hesitate — he grabbed the gun from Thomas's limp hand and fired twice.
Silence.
Thomas lay still, his betrayal soaking into the old wooden floor.
Ann dropped the poker, her breath ragged. Adrian rolled onto his side, clutching his wound. Blood seeped through his fingers, hot and dark.
Ann dropped to her knees beside him. "Adrian—stay with me—please—"
He reached for her hand, smearing blood on her wrist. "We're not done yet," he rasped, a wild smile cutting through his pain. "They think they can take us down? They don't know what hell really looks like."
And in that moment — covered in blood, shaking with rage — Ann knew the old wolves had just made their biggest mistake yet.