Chapter 3 - The Blood Alliance
The sound of shattering metal rattled through the foggy woods.
Before the three masked men could recover their balance, Adrian threw his driver’s side door open, stepping out into the cold night air with his gun raised. His eyes were cold, dead, and utterly devoid of mercy.
Pop! Pop! Pop!
Three precise shots shattered the night. The two men standing near the driver's side door dropped instantly to the wet earth, incapacitated. The third man threw his hands up, stumbling backward into the brush.
"Who sent you?" Adrian growled, stepping over the fallen men, his gun pointed straight at the surviving attacker's chest. "Speak in the next two seconds, or you don't leave these woods."
"Hartwell!" the man screamed in terror, clutching his shoulder where a stray piece of shrapnel had caught him. "Victor Hartwell! He said... he said if the maid died tonight, you'd have no choice but to marry Vanessa to protect your reputation!"
Adrian’s eyes narrowed into terrifying ice.
Victor Hartwell hadn't just wanted an alliance—he wanted total control of the Mercer territory. He had used his daughter as bait, and when Hannah had accidentally disrupted their plan, he had decided to eliminate her like a piece of unwanted trash.
Adrian didn't waste another second. He struck the man with the butt of his gun, knocking him unconscious, then rushed to the wreckage of Hannah’s car.
"Hannah!" Adrian yelled, grabbing the bent frame of the driver's door. With a roar of pure, adrenaline-fueled strength, he yanked the crumpled metal back until the hinges snapped.
He reached inside, gently lifting her soft, unconscious body out of the wreckage. Her head lolled against his chest, her skin cold, blood staining her brown curls near her temple.
"I've got you," Adrian whispered fiercely, pulling her close against his chest as he carried her toward his SUV. "I've got you, Hannah. You're safe."
He laid her carefully across the leather back seat of his Cadillac, pulling his woolen trench coat off to cover her shivering shoulders. As he brushed a stray lock of hair away from her pale face, her eyelids flickered open.
She looked up at him through a blur of pain and confusion. "Adrian...?"
It was the first time she had ever called him by his first name.
"I'm here," he whispered, holding her hand tightly. Her fingers were small and cold, but her grip in his was surprisingly firm.
"Lily..." she rasped weakly. "Is she..."
"Lily is safe at home," Adrian promised, his voice cracking slightly with emotion. "You saved her, Hannah. You saved us both tonight."
He shut the rear door, jumped into the driver's seat, and slammed his foot on the gas, racing back toward the estate.
Twenty minutes later, Adrian carried Hannah through the grand front doors of the Mercer mansion.
Arthur Mercer was standing in the foyer, holding a glass of whiskey, his face dark with fury. "Adrian! What is the meaning of this? Why are you carrying that woman back into my house?!"
Adrian stopped in the middle of the marble floor. He looked at his father with a look so terrifying that even the legendary mob boss stepped back half an inch.
"Victor Hartwell just tried to murder her on Old Mill Road," Adrian said, his voice ringing through the grand entryway like steel on stone. "Because he knew what you were too blind to see, Father."
"What are you talking about?" Arthur demanded.
"She isn't just the maid," Adrian declared, holding Hannah tighter against his chest as her breathing stabilized against his heartbeat. "She is the woman my daughter chose. And she is the only woman who will ever sit at the head of this family as my wife."
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Arthur stared at his son in utter shock. "You're insane! You would destroy a fifty-million-dollar syndicate alliance for a plus-size housemaid?!"
"I would burn Chicago to the ground for her," Adrian replied coldly. "Call Dr. Evans to the private wing. Now."
