Chapter 13 - Shattered Glass And The Conservatory Rescue
The sound of shattering glass echoed through the conservatory like a gunshot. The fixer spun around, his hand instinctively reaching toward his inner jacket pocket, but Adrian was already across the threshold.
"Don't even think about it," Adrian barked, closing the distance with terrifying speed.
Before the man could draw his weapon, Adrian drove a heavy right hook straight into his jaw, dropping him instantly onto the tiled floor among the potted ferns. The man groaned, rolling onto his side and lying still as Adrian kicked a dropped burner phone away from his reach.
"Isabella!" I cried out, rushing past Adrian and dropping to my knees in front of the velvet settee.
The little girl looked up, her dark eyes wide with shock before a wave of pure relief broke across her pale face. She threw her arms around my neck, burying her face in my shoulder. "Lena! They said you weren't coming back."
"I'm right here, sweet girl. I've got you," I whispered, holding her so tightly I could feel the rapid, frantic beat of her small heart. I checked her arms, her hands, her face—she was shaking from the cold and the terror, but she was unharmed. The wooden music box remained clutched safely in her left hand, its tiny brass hinges gleaming under the conservatory lights.
Adrian stood guard near the shattered doors, his eyes scanning the dark hallway beyond. "We have less than two minutes before backup or estate security realizes what happened. Can you walk, Isabella?"
"Yes," she nodded bravely, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her pastel dress. "I want to go home."
"We're going home," I promised, lifting her up into my arms. Her weight was a familiar, grounding anchor against my chest.
Footsteps echoed from the main corridor—heavy, hurried steps of multiple men shouting commands.
"Through the garden," Adrian ordered, stepping backward while keeping his eyes fixed on the doorway. "Keep low, Lena."
We sprinted out into the brisk night air, the damp grass soaking through the hems of our clothes as we made our way back toward the hidden sedan. The estate's perimeter alarm began to wail, a shrill, pulsing siren that cut through the silence of the river valley. But it was too late for them to stop us.
As we reached the car, the rhythmic flash of red and blue lights cut through the fog at the main gates. Federal vehicles and local cruisers were pouring down the drive, sirens screaming, their headlights washing the manor in a chaotic strobe of safety.
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Adrian opened the back door for us, helping Isabella and me slide into the leather seats before slamming the door shut. He climbed into the driver's seat, resting his hands on the wheel as federal agents in tactical gear swarmed the front steps of the estate, moving past us to secure the conservatory.
He looked back at us through the rearview mirror, his sharp expression softening into a steady, reassuring smile. "It's over, Lena. They're not touching her again."
