20. Shadows At The Door

The city outside the flower shop seemed deceptively calm, its usual bustle a stark contrast to the tension inside. Elara’s hands still trembled from the near-abduction earlier in the day. She had survived, yes but she felt a new awareness, a subtle edge sharpening her every movement. Every sound, every shadow could mean danger.

Adrian hadn’t left her side since arriving. He stationed himself by the door, arms crossed, eyes scanning the street. Every time the door creaked or a passerby stepped too close, he flinched something rare for him—something rare and protective, directed entirely at her.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said quietly, not in anger but with a weight that pressed against her chest.

“I can’t just stay locked up,” Elara replied, trying to keep her voice steady. “It’s my shop, my life.”

Adrian’s gray eyes softened just enough to make her heart skip a beat. “And you’ll never lose it. Not while I’m here. But I won’t pretend this is safe anymore.”

Elara’s gaze dropped to the floor. She could feel the truth in his words. Lydia’s shadow stretched far and wide, more cunning than either of them had anticipated.

A knock at the door jolted her out of her thoughts.

Adrian’s hand went immediately to his phone, fingers hovering over the earpiece, ready to communicate with security. “Stay behind me,” he warned.

Elara nodded, gripping the edge of the counter. The knock came again sharp, deliberate. Someone wanted in.

Adrian approached the door, sliding the chain lock aside. The small peephole offered only a sliver of view. Outside, a man stood alone, briefcase in hand, looking harmless enough… until Adrian’s instincts flared.

“Who is it?” he demanded.

The man smiled faintly. “Delivery for Miss Elara.”

Adrian’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m sorry, but we don’t accept deliveries today.”

The man tilted the briefcase toward the door. “It’s urgent. From… someone you know.”

Adrian’s jaw tightened. He turned to Elara. “You want to see it?”

Her curiosity flared despite the unease. “Yes. Maybe it’s… Lydia?”

He hesitated, then shrugged and opened the door, taking the briefcase inside before anyone else could notice. The man left without a word, slipping back into the bustling street.

Elara knelt beside Adrian as he unclasped the latches. Inside were papers, photographs, and a single item wrapped in black tissue paper.

She opened it first a small, delicate locket. It was beautiful, but the sight of it made her stomach twist. Inside the locket was a tiny photograph of Adrian and her from the day they first stepped into the penthouse. Someone had clearly been watching them, following their every move.

Adrian’s eyes darkened. “Lydia.”

Elara’s hands shook. “She’s… she’s everywhere.”

“She’s bold now,” Adrian said. “Too bold. And reckless. She’s trying to scare you, test you, see if you’ll break.”

“I won’t,” Elara said, trying to sound braver than she felt.

“Good.” Adrian’s voice dropped, becoming lower, more deliberate. “Because the moment she thinks you’re vulnerable, she’ll strike. And I won’t forgive her… or myself.”

Elara met his gaze. For a long moment, they simply stood together, the intensity between them almost unbearable. It wasn’t just about danger—it was about him, about the way he watched her, protected her, claimed her attention without a single word.

The moment was broken by another sound—this time, coming from the street outside the shop.

Elara’s heart skipped. Footsteps, hurried and deliberate. She backed away from the door instinctively. Adrian moved in front of her, a shield of muscle and controlled energy.

Through the window, they saw it: a van, black and unmarked, pulling slowly toward the shop.

“Stay here,” Adrian ordered. “Lock every door. Do not leave. Understand?”

“I understand,” Elara whispered, her pulse racing.

Adrian’s hand brushed hers briefly, grounding, protective. He nodded once, then disappeared out the back door of the shop, moving with the speed and precision of someone trained to deal with this kind of threat.

Elara’s hands flew to her mouth. She was alone, for the first time in hours, surrounded by shadows and the distant hum of the city. Her mind raced.

What if she’s faster this time?

Minutes crawled. Every sound car door slamming, footsteps, the distant chatter of people made her flinch. She gripped a vase, twisting it in her hands as if it were a weapon.

Then louder than anything else a crash at the back entrance.

Elara froze. The door rattled violently. Someone was trying to force it open. Panic rose, but she pushed it down. No screaming. No running. Not yet.

Adrian burst through the back door like a force of nature. He moved with precision, striking hard and fast. Within moments, the man or men attempting to break in were down, groaning, sprawled across the floor.

Elara’s legs went weak, and Adrian caught her instantly. “Are you okay?” he asked, voice low, but edged with warning.

“I… yes,” she whispered, trembling, holding onto him.

Adrian didn’t let go. Not for a second. His body was a shield, his presence overwhelming yet protective. “This ends tonight,” he said quietly. “I’m not letting her win. Not you. Not us.”

Elara felt warmth rise in her chest not from the close call, but from him. From the way he claimed her without touching her, from the raw intensity in his gray eyes.

She nodded, swallowing hard. “Together.”

Adrian’s lips barely brushed her temple, fleeting, intimate. “Together,” he repeated.

Later that night

The shop was quiet now. Security had increased, cameras were rechecked, and Adrian refused to leave her side.

Elara sat at the counter, still shaking slightly, staring at the black locket in her hand. She had survived an almost-kidnapping, fought her own fear, and yet… she realized something startling.

She enjoyed the adrenaline. Not the fear itself but the way she had survived. The way she had faced danger and come out stronger. She had seen her own courage, her own ability to fight.

Adrian noticed. He leaned against the counter, watching her silently, arms crossed.

“You’re braver than I expected,” he said finally, voice low.

She met his eyes. “I had to be.”

He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “And I’ll make sure you don’t have to be alone. Not while she’s alive. Not while anyone dares to threaten you.”

Elara’s heartbeat thundered. The air between them seemed to hum with unspoken tension.

“You don’t trust me?” she asked, half-teasing, half-serious.

“Not everyone deserves trust,” he said slowly. “But you… I trust you to survive. And I trust myself to protect you.”

The words sent a shiver down her spine. There was danger outside, the threat still looming, but inside this penthouse, inside this shop, she felt something else: a connection, an intensity, a growing bond neither could deny.