Gunfire shattered the silence.
Scarlet's heart leapt painfully as a bullet cracked through the upper window, spraying glass across the floor. Adrian pushed her down just as another shot sliced through the air where her head had been moments ago.
"Move," he ordered.
She didn't need to be told twice.
Adrian dragged her behind one of the concrete support pillars as more rounds hammered the walls, the sound harsh and hollow in the vast industrial space.
"Who are they?" Scarlet whispered, breath trembling.
Adrian's eyes flicked toward the shadows shifting outside the windows. "Circle operatives. Low-tier. But still lethal enough."
"Low-tier?" Scarlet hissed. "They're shooting like they want to redecorate with our blood!"
He didn't smile, but his gaze flickered with something dangerously close. "Stay down."
Scarlet pressed her back against the cold pillar. Her mind raced. This couldn't be real—none of it. Two days ago, she was just Scarlet Monroe: stubborn, overworked, obsessively private, trying to avoid the ghosts of her life.
And now she was a—
No. Not yet. She refused to finish that sentence.
Another shot cracked. Adrian leaned just enough to see where it came from and pulled out a sleek black handgun from the back of his waistband.
Scarlet blinked. "You brought a gun to a conversation?"
"I bring a gun to breakfast," he replied.
Before she could respond, he slipped past her, movements fluid and silent. He fired once. The gunshot echoed like thunder.
A grunt sounded outside. Then a body hit the ground.
Scarlet flinched.
"Adrian—" she whispered.
"I told you," he said without looking at her. "Stay."
"I'm not a dog."
"No," he murmured, stepping forward again. "You're far more unpredictable."
Scarlet bristled, but fear kept her anchored. She peeked around the pillar and saw three figures advancing from the catwalk above the factory floor. All wearing black. All armed.
One shouted something in a language she didn't recognize—but her body reacted. Her heart dropped, breath tightening as if those syllables carried weight her mind didn't remember.
She staggered back, clutching her chest.
Adrian noticed.
"What is it?" he asked sharply.
"I've… I've heard that before," she whispered. "I don't know where, but—"
A burst of bullets forced Adrian to yank her backward until her spine hit the concrete column again.
"Head down," he growled.
She ducked, heart pounding. Adrian fired again—clean, precise. Another man collapsed from the metal walkway, hitting the ground with a sickening thud.
The remaining attackers moved to flank them.
Adrian swore under his breath. "They're trying to corner us."
Scarlet swallowed hard. "And what do we do if they succeed?"
"We don't let them."
He grabbed her hand.
Her breath caught.
"We're going out the east exit," he said. "Keep up."
Scarlet barely had time to nod before Adrian pulled her into motion. They sprinted across the open floor, weaving between machinery and crates. Bullets peppered the concrete behind them. One crate exploded into splinters.
Scarlet threw herself forward, lungs screaming. They reached a rusted metal door.
Adrian slammed his shoulder into it. It burst open, clanging against the wall.
Cold air hit her face like a slap.
But the relief lasted only a second.
Three more operatives were waiting outside.
"Down," Adrian ordered.
Scarlet dropped instinctively, and Adrian shot one, then the second. The third lunged forward with a knife. Adrian blocked the strike with his forearm, twisting the attacker's wrist until a sharp crack rang out.
Scarlet stared, breathless.
Adrian didn't just fight.
He moved like someone who had lived in darkness longer than daylight.
"Let's go," he said.
They ran through the alley, the sky dimming as clouds smothered the evening light.
Just when Scarlet thought they had escaped—
A black SUV screeched around the corner, tires screaming against the concrete.
"Adrian!" she shouted.
"I see it."
The vehicle accelerated, barreling straight toward them.
"Run!" Adrian pulled her sharply, dragging her between dumpsters and broken pallets.
The SUV slammed into the alley wall behind them, metal crumpling like paper.
"Move!" Adrian urged.
Scarlet's lungs felt like they were burning. Her legs trembled, threatening to collapse. But Adrian kept her steady, his grip tight, unyielding.
They reached another gate, and Adrian kicked it open. They stumbled into a wider street illuminated only by flickering streetlights.
Scarlet bent over, gasping for breath.
But Adrian didn't slow. He grabbed her shoulders.
"Look at me."
She lifted her head.
His face was close—far too close—but she couldn't look away.
"They're not going to stop," he said. "You need to let that sink in."
Scarlet swallowed. "I didn't ask for any of this."
"No," he agreed softly. "But fate doesn't ask permission."
She stared at the mark on her wrist. It wasn't bruised anymore. It seemed darker. Sharper. Almost alive.
A chill ran down her spine. "Why did they brand me? Why does this matter so much?"
Adrian hesitated.
Scarlet narrowed her eyes. "Tell me."
He sighed. "The Serpent Circle identifies their most successful… creations."
Scarlet felt sick. "I'm not a creation."
His expression suggested uncertainty. "Some truths aren't gentle."
Before she could argue, he pulled her into the shadows. Footsteps echoed from behind them. More operatives.
Scarlet felt her panic spike.
Adrian's fingers tightened slightly. "Breathe."
"You don't understand," she whispered. "My heart—everything—it's too fast, it's—"
He tilted her chin up. "Scarlet. Look at me."
Her shaking stilled instantly. For a moment, the world narrowed to him alone.
"Good," he murmured. "Now keep your focus. You follow me. No matter what."
Scarlet nodded weakly.
Adrian led her through a maze of backstreets until they reached another abandoned building—this one smaller, hidden, its windows boarded up.
He pushed open the side entrance and ushered her inside.
As soon as the door shut, Scarlet felt her legs give out. She sank to the floor.
Adrian crouched beside her. "Any injuries?"
"No," she breathed. "Just fear."
"Fear makes you smarter."
"Fear makes me want to run."
"Exactly," Adrian said softly. "And running kept you alive."
Scarlet leaned her head back against the wall, closing her eyes. "How long has this been going on?"
"Longer than you know."
"How long have you known me?"
Silence.
Scarlet opened her eyes.
"Adrian?"
He rose slowly, pacing a few steps away. His shoulders were tense, his jaw tight.
Finally, he spoke.
"I've known who you were for thirteen years."
Her breath hitched. "That's impossible. We only met—"
"Officially? Yes." He turned to face her. "But you were never meant to meet me then. Not until they came looking for you again."
Scarlet felt her pulse thicken. "What are you saying?"
Adrian stepped closer, the dim light carving shadowed lines across his face.
"You think I found you by accident?" he asked softly. "You think saving you last night was coincidence?"
Scarlet's mouth opened—but no sound came.
Adrian exhaled slowly. "Scarlet, you have been a target since the day the Circle fell. And I've been dealing with the consequences of that night ever since."
"How?" she whispered. "Why?"
Adrian's voice dropped to a dangerous softness. "Because I was there when the fire started."
Scarlet went still.
"Adrian… what did you do?"
His gaze darkened. "What I had to."
A shiver ran through her.
"Scarlet," he said quietly, "that night wasn't an accident. The fire didn't destroy the Circle because of some internal conflict."
She stared at him, dread coiling in her stomach.
"You burned it?" she whispered.
"Yes."
Scarlet recoiled as if struck. "Why?"
Adrian stepped closer, his eyes shadowed with memories she couldn't decipher.
"Because I couldn't let them take you."
Her breath hitched on a sharp inhale.
"What?"
"You were meant to disappear that night with the others. But I found you first." His voice tightened. "You were terrified. Bleeding. Trying to escape."
Her vision blurred.
"And you said something," he continued. "Something that changed everything."
"What did I say?" she whispered.
Adrian's jaw flexed.
"You begged me not to let them take you back."
Scarlet's pulse roared in her ears.
"I don't remember," she choked out.
"I know."
He knelt in front of her slowly, like approaching something fragile and dangerous at once.
"I didn't save the children," Adrian said, voice barely audible. "I couldn't save them. But I saved you."
Her breath trembled as tears threatened.
"Why me?"
Adrian held her gaze.
"Because you were the only one who fought back."
Her vision blurred further. "I'm not some hero, Adrian—"
"No." His voice was soft. "But you were brave."
Scarlet looked away, wiping a stray tear roughly. She refused to cry—not in front of him.
But when she lifted her head again, Adrian was watching her with something so intense it felt like gravity.
"Scarlet," he said quietly, "there is more. Much more. But I won't force it on you."
Scarlet swallowed, chest tight. "So what now?"
Adrian leaned back slightly, shadows deepening around him.
"Now?" he murmured. "Now we prepare. They won't stop. Tonight was only the first wave."
Scarlet hugged her knees. "And you… you're supposed to protect me?"
His lips twitched faintly. "I'm not supposed to do anything. I choose to."
A silence stretched between them—heavy, intimate, frightening.
Then Scarlet whispered, "Adrian… what exactly was I to them?"
Adrian looked at her for a long moment.
Then he said the words she wasn't ready for:
"You were their masterpiece."
The room turned cold.
Scarlet's heart stilled.
And then, in a voice barely above a whisper, she asked the question she feared most:
"What if I'm becoming what they made me to be… and I don't even know it?"