Bound by Fire

Some chains are unseen, but they burn just the same.

Celeste....

The drive back to the estate was a blur. The weight of Adrian's body against me, the sound of his shallow breathing—those were the only things keeping me anchored. Blood soaked through his shirt, staining my hands, my clothes, and the scent of iron filled the cramped space of the car. I had trained for high-stakes situations, but nothing had prepared me for this.

For him.

Dante was driving like a madman, the tension in his shoulders matching my own. Lorenzo sat in the passenger seat, barking orders into his phone. They were handling the logistics—security, medical arrangements, retaliation planning. But I wasn't listening.

My focus was entirely on Adrian.

His head rested against my shoulder, his breathing labored. Every bump in the road made his jaw clench, pain evident even as he tried to keep that damn smirk on his face.

"If you die on me, Russo, I'll kill you," I muttered under my breath, pressing harder against the wound.

His lips twitched. "You'd miss me, Ogonëk."

I swallowed, my grip tightening on him. That was the problem.

"Stay awake," I ordered, voice strained.

His eyelids fluttered. "You're warm…" His voice was weaker now, distant.

Panic flared inside me. I reached up and tapped his cheek, harder than necessary. "Eyes on me, Adrian. You don't get to check out. Not yet."

His gaze locked onto mine, something unreadable flickering there. "Bossy as ever."

"Damn right."

The car screeched to a halt in front of the estate, and before I could process anything, men were pulling Adrian out of my grasp. I followed, my heart pounding as we rushed inside. The grand foyer blurred around me—opulent chandeliers, marble floors slick with his blood. But all I saw was him.

"Get him to the medical wing!" Dante snapped.

A wave of bodies moved in sync, carrying Adrian past the grand staircase. I followed, ignoring the glances thrown my way. Let them wonder. Let them suspect.

Lorenzo stepped in front of me, blocking my path. "You need to—"

"Move." My voice was sharp, unyielding. I wasn't in the mood for his power plays.

His gaze flickered over me, assessing. "You're too involved, Carter."

I was involved. And I hated it.

But I shoved past him, following Adrian into the room where the in-house doctor was already working. My breath caught as they cut away his shirt, revealing the raw wound beneath.

I had seen injuries before. Had inflicted them. But the sight of Adrian like this—pale, vulnerable, mortal—did something to me.

"We got the bullet out," the doctor muttered. "But he needs rest."

I exhaled, stepping back. My hands were still shaking, adrenaline refusing to leave my system.

Dante appeared beside me. "He'll be fine."

I nodded, but I didn't believe it.

I should have left the room. I should have walked away.

Instead, I sat down beside him.

His breathing was steadier now, his face still pale but peaceful in sleep. I watched him for what felt like hours, the weight of the night pressing down on me. This isn't just a mission anymore, is it?

I ran a hand through my hair, frustration curling in my gut. I had been trained to resist manipulation, to never get emotionally attached. But Adrian Russo was burrowing under my skin, sinking into places he had no right to be.

A soft sound escaped his lips, his head turning slightly toward me. Even unconscious, his presence was overwhelming.

I should leave.

But I didn't.

I reached forward, fingers brushing against his wrist, feeling the warmth of his skin. A silent confirmation that he was still here.

That I was still here.