IRIS POV
Adrian fell.
One second he was at the window above me. The next second he was dropping through the air like a stone, and my heart stopped completely.
He crashed onto the roof beside me with a sound that made me sick.
"Adrian!"
I was on my knees next to him before I even realized I'd moved. He wasn't moving. His eyes were closed. His whole body was still.
No. No, no, no_
"Adrian." I grabbed his face with both hands. "Open your eyes. Right now. Open your eyes."
Nothing.
My chest cracked open.
Then he groaned.
It was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard in my entire life.
"Ow," he said weakly.
"Ow?" I could have screamed at him. "You just fell out of a window and all you have to say is ow?"
His eyes opened slowly. Those steel-gray eyes found my face and something in them relaxed. Like I was the thing he'd been looking for.
"You're okay," he breathed.
"I'm okay? You're the one who just_" I pressed my hand to his side where the blood was soaking through again. Dark red. Too much. "You're bleeding again. You tore something open."
"I noticed," he said through clenched teeth.
James landed on the roof behind us with a heavy thud. He was already moving before he hit the ground, crouching, scanning, his gun out.
"We have maybe four minutes before they regroup," James said. His voice was calm like this was just a normal Tuesday. "Can he walk?"
We both looked at Adrian.
Adrian was trying to sit up. His face had gone gray like ash and he was breathing through his nose in short, sharp bursts. The kind of breathing people do when they're trying very hard not to pass out.
"Yes," Adrian said.
"No," I said at the same time.
Our eyes met. His jaw went tight.
"Iris_"
"You've been shot twice. You just fell off a building. Don't lie to me." I slid my shoulder under his arm. "You can walk because I'm going to hold you up. That's how this works."
He stared at me for a second like he wanted to argue. Then the sound of shouting from the broken window above us made the argument irrelevant.
We moved.
James led. I kept Adrian upright. The roof was flat and gravelly and my shoes kept slipping, but I held on. Adrian's weight pressed into me with every step. He was heavy _ solid muscle and height _ and with every limp, he hissed air through his teeth.
But he kept moving. He didn't stop. I didn't let him.
"Service ladder," James said. "East side. Thirty feet."
Thirty feet felt like thirty miles.
Smoke was still pouring out of the shattered window behind us. Black and thick and ugly. I could hear coughing from up there. His father's men trying to breathe through it. Good. I hoped they choked on every single breath.
"They'll come down the stairs," Adrian said. His voice was getting weaker. "The building exits. They'll try to cut us off."
"FBI is on the way," James said.
"How far out?"
James hesitated. That half-second hesitation told me everything.
"Too far," I said.
"We'll make it," James said. But he said it too fast.
Adrian stumbled. I caught him. He was burning up _ I could feel the heat radiating off his skin like a furnace. Fever. His body was trying to fight an infection from the bullet wounds and a fall and smoke and probably about fifteen other things.
"Don't you dare die on me," I hissed into his ear. "Not now. Not after everything we've been through."
Adrian made a sound. It took me a second to realize he was laughing. Actually laughing. Soft and rough and painful-sounding, but real.
"That's the most affectionate thing you've ever said to me," he said.
"Keep moving and I'll say more of them."
He moved faster after that.
The service ladder was old and metal and bolted to the side of the building. James went first, fast, checking below. Then he waved up at us.
Clear.
"You first," Adrian said.
"Adrian_"
"You first, Iris." His voice was quiet but firm. "Please."
I grabbed the ladder and climbed down. The metal was cold and slippery from the earlier rain. My arms ached. My legs shook. But I got to the bottom and looked up.
Adrian was already on the ladder.
He was doing it one-handed, keeping his other arm pressed against his side. His face was white as paper. Every rung looked like it cost him something. But he came down. Rung by rung. Slow and determined.
He landed on the ground next to me and immediately leaned against the building wall. Breathing hard.
The FBI sirens were loud now. Really loud. Red and blue lights flashed around the corner of the building.
"We're clear," James said. "I'm calling them in."
Adrian slid slowly down the wall until he was sitting on the ground. His head dropped back. His eyes closed.
My heart clenched so hard it hurt.
I sat down next to him on the cold wet ground. I didn't think about it. I just took his hand in both of mine and held on.
His fingers curled around mine.
"We made it," I whispered.
"We made it," he agreed.
We sat there like that while James waved down the FBI agents flooding around the corner. While radios crackled and people shouted orders and the world went loud and bright and chaotic around us.
I stayed very still. Adrian kept his eyes closed. Our hands stayed locked together.
"Iris." His voice was quiet. Almost too quiet to hear over all the noise.
"Yeah?"
"When this is over." He stopped. Swallowed. "When I'm not bleeding on a rooftop. I need to tell you something. Something I should have said a long time ago."
My heart was doing something strange. Skipping. Stumbling.
"Okay," I said. "Tell me."
"Not here." His hand tightened around mine. "When it's just us. Just you and me. No contracts. No cameras. No revenge." He finally opened his eyes and looked at me. Those storm-gray eyes were soft in a way I had never seen before. "Promise me you'll listen."
"I promise," I said.
The paramedics rushed over and started pulling us apart.
And as they lifted Adrian onto the stretcher, as his hand slipped out of mine, one of the FBI agents crouched next to me. His face was tight. Serious.
"Ms. Chen," he said carefully, "we found something inside the building. In your father-in-law's things." He held up a sealed evidence bag. Inside was a photograph.
My mother. Young and smiling. Standing next to a woman I had never seen before.
Written on the back of the photograph, in handwriting I didn't recognize, were five words.
She knew the whole truth.
The ground felt like it was moving under me.
Which truth?