Chapter 2 - Shattered Reflections
"Get down!" Adrian threw his body sideways, twisting mid-air to wrap himself entirely around the newborn.
The glass didn't shatter—it erupted. A supersonic round tore through the penthouse window, followed instantly by three muffled cracks that punched holes into the mahogany headboard. Glass rained down like diamond dust, slicing across Adrian’s tailored black coat. Clara hit the carpet on her hands and knees, terror strangling any scream she tried to voice.
Sirens echoed far below, indifferent and distant. In the corner of the room, Adrian pushed himself to his feet against the wall, his coat torn, his neck tattoos glistening with a fresh streak of blood from a glass fragment. The infant let out a tiny, frightened wail.
"The service elevator," Adrian snapped, extending his free hand to yank Clara upward. "They’re using heavy suppressors. This isn't local law enforcement; it's Victor's cleanup squad."
Clara grabbed the sonogram off the splintered nightstand, shoving it into her blouse. "Victor? You told me he was dead! You swore you burned his syndicate to the foundation!"
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"I thought I did," Adrian answered grimly, leading her through the darkened corridor into the private service shaft. "A beast like that doesn't die until you cut off every hand feeding him."
He punched a concealed override code on the elevator pad. The steel doors slid open, revealing an emergency descent platform. But inside the metal cage, pinned to the control panel by a hunting knife, hung a freshly printed photograph: Clara’s suburban apartment, surrounded by black SUVs.
