Crossfire

The cold barrel of the gun pressed against Elena's temple.

Her breathing slowed, her fingers tightening around her own weapon.

Adrian stood a few feet away, his gun raised, his stance unreadable.

"Drop it," one of the masked men ordered.

Adrian smirked. "You really think I'm that easy?"

Before the man could react, Adrian moved.

A single shot rang out.

The man holding Elena jolted, his grip loosening just enough. She spun, slamming her elbow into his ribs. He staggered back, and Elena seized the moment—grabbing his wrist, twisting it until he dropped his gun.

A second shot.

A body hit the ground.

She didn't have time to check who.

Two more men charged at Adrian. He ducked, shoving a crate into one of them, knocking him off balance. The other swung a knife—Adrian dodged, grabbed the attacker's wrist, and snapped it back.

A scream. A weapon clattering to the floor.

Elena grabbed the fallen gun, spun around, and fired.

The last man standing froze.

Silence.

A faint hum filled the warehouse.

Elena's breath was heavy. She turned toward Adrian.

His lip was bleeding. His shirt was torn.

And he was still watching her with that same damn expression.

Like he knew something she didn't.

She swallowed. "Who were they?"

Adrian exhaled, wiping his mouth. "People who don't like me."

Her stomach twisted. "And what about that video?"

Adrian's jaw clenched. "It's complicated."

Elena scoffed. "Try me."

For a moment, it seemed like he might.

Then, footsteps echoed from outside.

More of them.

Adrian grabbed her wrist. "We have to go. Now."

She yanked away. "I'm not running."

"Then stay and die."

Elena's pulse hammered.

She hated that he was right.

A decision formed in her mind in seconds.

She stepped over the fallen men, kicked a gun away, and followed him toward the back exit.

They burst into the night air, the city lights glowing in the distance.

Elena wasn't sure what she was running toward.

But one thing was certain—

She wasn't done with Adrian Cross.

Not until she knew everything.