The rain had stopped by morning, leaving the city draped in a gray haze, streets slick and reflecting the pale light of dawn. Inside the safe house, the only sound was the rhythmic hum of the heater and the shallow, uneven breaths of Adrian Blake.
Ayla sat cross-legged beside the couch, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee she hadn't touched. Her eyes kept drifting to him—his usually imposing figure now motionless, his skin pale beneath the soft lamplight. His bandaged side rose and fell slowly, the faintest trace of tension flickering across his brow whenever he stirred in his restless sleep.
It felt strange, seeing him like this. The man who commanded boardrooms and sent entire industries trembling was now fighting just to breathe. Vulnerable. Mortal. And somehow… more real than he had ever been.
She set the mug down and adjusted the blanket over him, careful not to wake him. Her fingers brushed his wrist, feeling the steady, if faint, pulse beneath his skin. It grounded her, even as a storm of questions churned in her chest.
The flash drive in her bag felt heavier than ever. Owner: Blake Enterprises. Last accessed: Adrian Blake.
He knew. Or he would, soon enough. And when he did… what then?
Her thoughts shattered when his voice, low and rough, broke the silence. "You've been staring at me for ten minutes. Should I be flattered, or worried?"
She jerked, finding his eyes open, sharp despite the exhaustion in them. "You shouldn't even be awake," she muttered, shifting back slightly. "You need rest."
"I need answers," he countered, slowly pushing himself up despite her protests. The effort drew a wince from him, his hand instinctively gripping his side, but his gaze never left her. "Whoever came for us last night… they weren't amateurs. And they weren't just after me."
Her stomach tightened. "What makes you so sure?"
His eyes flicked to her, unreadable. "Because they knew where to hit. How to bypass my security. That doesn't happen by chance."
The unspoken accusation hung in the air. Ayla's breath caught. "You think I had something to do with it?"
"I think," he said, leaning back against the cushions, "that you're holding something back. And in my world, secrets get people killed."
Her pulse raced. She wanted to tell him everything—the flash drive, the message from her father's associate, the cryptic warning that had led her into this mess. But the memory of her family's fragile safety kept her silent. She couldn't risk it. Not yet.
Instead, she met his gaze, steadying her voice. "Maybe I am holding something back. But so are you, Adrian. Don't pretend this marriage is the only thing that's fake between us."
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The air was taut, heavy, as though the walls themselves were holding their breath.
Then, to her surprise, he laughed softly—a low, rough sound. "You're not wrong," he admitted, a faint smirk curving his lips. "But there's a difference between the lies we tell for survival… and the ones that destroy us."
The words lingered, cutting deeper than she wanted to admit.
---
Hours later, after tending to his wound again, Ayla helped Adrian to his feet. "You need proper treatment," she insisted, her hand steadying his arm as they moved toward the bedroom. "At least let me call a doctor."
"No hospitals," he repeated, his tone brooking no argument. "But… there's someone I trust. Barely." He sank onto the edge of the bed, his expression tightening. "She'll meet us tonight. Until then, we stay here. Quiet."
Ayla nodded, though unease coiled in her stomach. "She?"
"She's a surgeon. And a friend," Adrian replied, his tone flat, though the faintest edge of amusement ghosted in his eyes at her raised brow. "Jealous already, Mrs. Blake?"
She rolled her eyes, even as warmth crept to her cheeks. "Hardly. Just wondering how many women in your life double as emergency medics."
"Only one," he said, his voice softer now. "And she owes me her life."
The intimacy in his tone, the subtle crack in his usual armor, sent an unexpected shiver through her. She busied herself with adjusting his blanket, unwilling to let him see the effect his words had on her.
But as she turned away, his hand caught hers—warm, steady, despite the weakness in his body. "Ayla."
She looked back, startled by the gravity in his eyes.
"Whatever you're hiding," he said quietly, "tell me before it gets us both killed."
Her heart stuttered. For a moment, she almost did. The words rose to her lips, teetering on the edge of confession… until a sharp beep from her phone broke the spell. A message. No name. Just four words:
They know. Leave now.
Her blood ran cold.
Adrian saw the way her fingers trembled as she clutched the phone, his eyes narrowing. "Who's that from?"
She forced a breath, tucking the phone into her pocket. "Wrong number," she lied, her voice steadier than she felt.
But his gaze lingered, sharp and calculating. He didn't press, not yet. Instead, he reached for his gun on the nightstand, checking the magazine with a practiced hand. "Pack your things. We're leaving."
Ayla hesitated. "You can barely stand."
"And yet," he said, sliding the weapon back into place, "I'm not staying here waiting for whoever sent those men to finish the job. You're coming with me, Ayla—whether you like it or not."
She swallowed hard, nodding even as her mind raced. Whoever was pulling the strings… they were getting closer. And now, with Adrian bleeding and the flash drive burning a hole in her bag, she couldn't tell if she was more afraid of their enemies… or of Adrian finding out the truth.
---
That night, as the SUV rolled through the city's quiet streets, Ayla stared out the window, the glow of passing lights painting fleeting shadows across her face. Beside her, Adrian leaned back, his eyes closed, though she knew he wasn't asleep.
Her fingers brushed the flash drive in her coat pocket. Every instinct screamed to destroy it, to end the danger it carried. But another part of her—stubborn, desperate—wanted to know the truth. About Adrian. About why this drive had his company's name on it. About why their lives were suddenly worth killing for.
When the car stopped at a discreet, gated property, Adrian's voice, low and firm, cut through the silence. "From this point forward, Ayla… no more secrets. If you want to survive in my world, you'll tell me everything."
She met his gaze, her breath catching at the intensity in his eyes. "And if I don't?"
His lips curved into a faint, dangerous smile. "Then I'll find out anyway. And trust me, sweetheart… you won't like how I do it."
The gates opened, swallowing them into darkness. Somewhere beyond, a storm far greater than last night's was waiting.