Darkness descended completely, like a cool velvet blanket falling over the study. The only sounds in the room were the pounding of Ava's heart and the steady, deadly breathing of the man holding her. Liam's grip was like iron—unwavering and protective.
"Don't move," he ordered, his voice echoing through his chest and down to Ava's shoulder. It wasn't a plea anymore; it was the voice of a general on a battlefield.
Outside, the silence was broken by the sharp, rhythmic crackle of gunfire. The dogs were barking frantically, their sounds cut short by muffled thuds. Ava's breath hitched. This wasn't a movie. This wasn't a business negotiation. This was war.
Liam moved with a predator's grace in the dark. He reached under his mahogany desk, and Ava heard a mechanical click. A hidden panel slid open. He pulled out a sleek, black handgun and checked the magazine with a chilling efficiency.
"Liam, what is happening?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "Who are they?"
"The debt collectors from my father's past,"
he rasped. He turned to her, the faint moonlight catching the cold, murderous glint in his eyes. He grabbed a heavy tactical vest from the hidden compartment and threw it over his silk shirt. "Stay low. We're moving to the safe room in the basement. If we stay here, we're sitting ducks."
He grabbed her hand, his palm rough and warm, and led her out into the hallway. The mansion, once a symbol of opulence, now felt like a haunted labyrinth. The emergency red lights flickered on, casting long, bloody shadows on the walls.
As they reached the grand staircase, a window shattered behind them. Two men in tactical gear swung in on ropes, their boots crunching on the glass.
"Get down!" Liam roared. He shoved Ava behind a marble pillar and opened fire.
The sound was deafening. Ava covered her ears, screaming silently as the world around her turned into a blur of smoke and sparks. Liam didn't flinch. He stood his ground, his silhouette tall and imposing, a dark god defending his sanctuary. He took down the first man with a single shot to the chest and forced the second one back into the shadows.
"Ava, run! Toward the kitchen elevator!" he yelled, reloading his weapon without breaking his gaze from the hallway.
She ran. The gold dress, once so beautiful, was now a shimmering target. She tore at the skirt, ripping the expensive fabric so she could move faster. Her bare feet bled on the broken glass, but she didn't feel the pain. Adrenaline was the only thing keeping her upright.
She reached the service elevator just as a third man stepped out of the shadows, a knife gleaming in his hand. He was large, his face scarred, his eyes fixed on the diamonds around her neck.
"Pretty bird in a gold cage," he sneered, lunging for her.
Ava didn't think. She grabbed a heavy bronze bust of a Moretti ancestor from a side table and swung it with every ounce of terror-fueled strength she had. It connected with the side of his head with a sickening crack. He crumpled to the floor.
Suddenly, Liam was there. He looked at the fallen man, then at Ava, a flash of pride crossing his blood-splattered face. He didn't say a word. He grabbed her, pulled her into the elevator, and slammed the 'B3' button.
As the elevator descended, the silence returned, heavier than before. Ava leaned against the metal wall, gasping for air, her gold dress stained with dirt and blood. She looked at Liam. He was checking his wounds—a graze on his arm was soaking his white sleeve red.
"You're hurt," she choked out, reaching for him.
"It's nothing," he snapped, but then his eyes softened. He reached out and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. His hand was shaking—the first sign of humanity she had seen in days. "I told you, Ava... I am a dangerous man to know."
"I don't care about the danger, Liam," she said, her voice finally finding its strength. "I care about the man who is bleeding for me."
The elevator doors opened to the bunker—a high-tech room filled with monitors and weapons. Liam led her inside and locked the reinforced steel door. They were safe for now, but the screens showed dozens of men surrounding the estate.
Liam sat her down on a leather couch and went to a first-aid kit. He didn't treat himself first. He knelt at her feet, taking her small, bleeding foot into his large hands. He began to clean the cuts from the glass with a tenderness that shattered Ava's heart.
"Why?" she whispered. "Why do all this for a contract?"
Liam stopped. He looked up at her, the mask of the Ice King finally, completely breaking.
"Because you were never just a contract, Ava," he confessed, his voice breaking. "I bought you to save my name, but you're the only thing that's made me feel like I actually have a soul. And if I have to burn this entire city down to keep you breathing, I will."
Suddenly, the main monitor turned red. A face appeared on the screen—Viktor Volkov. He was sitting in the back of a van, a cruel smile on his face.
"Hello, Liam," Viktor's voice boomed through the speakers. "I hope you're enjoying your twenty-million-dollar date. But I'm afraid the price just went up. Give me the ledger your father stole, or I'll blow that bunker—and your little waitress—into stardust."
Liam stood up, his face turning into a mask of pure, unadulterated coldness. He looked at the screen, then at Ava. The real war had just begun.
The silence in the bunker was heavy, broken only by the low hum of the servers and the distorted crackle of Viktor's voice. Liam didn't look at Ava immediately. He stood like a statue, his back to her, his shoulders broad and tense under the tactical vest. The coldness radiating from him was no longer just a personality trait; it was a weapon.
"You're a long way from home, Viktor," Liam said, his voice dropping into a register so low it felt like a vibration in the floor. He stepped toward the main console, his fingers dancing over the keys with a calm that was more terrifying than any scream.
"Attacking a man's home is a declaration of extinction. You know how the Morettis handle rats who crawl into their gardens."
Viktor laughed, a dry, raspy sound that echoed through the high-end speakers.
"The Morettis are a dying breed, Liam. Your father was a thief, and you're just a man hiding in a hole with a girl you bought. The ledger. I know it's in that vault. Give it to me, and I might let the girl walk. If not... well, this estate is built on a gas line, isn't it? One spark, and you both become a legend."
Ava felt the blood drain from her face. She looked at Liam, searching for a sign of hope, but his profile was unreadable—a mask of cold marble.
"The ledger contains the names of every man your family betrayed to get where you are, Viktor," Liam whispered, finally turning his head to look at the screen. "If I give it to you, you don't just walk away. You become the most powerful man in the underworld. And I become a dead man walking."
"Precisely," Viktor smiled, his eyes glinting with madness. "You have sixty seconds, Liam. Sixty seconds to decide if the waitress's life is worth more than your empire."
The countdown began on the screen. 59... 58...
Liam turned to Ava. He walked over to her, ignoring the ticking clock. He knelt down again, but this time he didn't look at her feet. He took her face in both his hands. His palms were stained with blood and soot, but his touch was incredibly gentle.
"Listen to me," he whispered, his eyes locked onto hers with a ferocity that made her tremble. "There is a tunnel behind the server racks. It leads to the boathouse. Marcus is waiting there. You go, and you don't look back."
"No," Ava breathed, clutching his wrists. "I'm not leaving you here. If you give him the ledger, he'll kill you. If you don't, we both die. There has to be another way."
"Ava, look at me," Liam commanded, his voice cracking with a raw emotion he had spent a lifetime hiding. "For ten million dollars, I wanted a bride. For twenty million, I wanted a shield. But right now... I'd give every cent I own just to see you breathe one more day. The ledger is a lie. The real secret isn't on paper. It's in here." He tapped his temple.
30... 29...
"Liam, please"
He leaned in and kissed her. It wasn't the kiss of a businessman or a contract-holder. It was a desperate, soul-crushing goodbye. It tasted of salt and iron, and it told her everything he had been too afraid to say. He pulled back, his eyes burning.
"Go, Ava. That's an order."
He stood up and walked back to the console, his fingers hovering over a red button that didn't look like it opened a door. It looked like it opened hell.
"Viktor!" Liam shouted at the screen. "You want the ledger? Come and get it. But you're going to have to walk through the fire to find me.
Ava stood there, torn between the tunnel and the man she had somehow grown to love. The countdown hit 10... 9... 8...
Suddenly, the bunker door groaned. Someone was outside. Not with a key, but with an industrial drill. The sparks began to fly through the steel.
Liam didn't look back. He drew his second weapon and aimed it at the door, his face a mask of suicidal defiance. "Run, Ava! RUN!"
As the countdown hit zero, the world didn't explode. Instead, the screens went black, and a new voice—cold, female, and utterly familiar—filled the room.
"Enough of this theater, Liam. Open the door."
Liam froze. The gun in his hand trembled. Ava watched as the 'Ice King' turned pale, his eyes wide with a horror she had never seen before.
"Mother?" Liam whispered.