Zariah did not remember walking back to her room. Her body simply carried her there, numb and trembling, while Adrian's words replayed in her mind like a blade scraping against glass.
"You weren't supposed to open the red door."
She had broken a rule, yes — but she had also uncovered a truth he had spent years hiding. A truth that now breathed between them like a dangerous third presence.
She shut the door behind her and leaned against it, breathing hard. Her hands were still cold. Her pulse still unsteady. It felt as if the shadows in this house had shifted positions the moment she stepped into that forbidden room.
Adrian had followed her halfway through the corridor, then stopped, watching her with a storm in his eyes. But he didn't come after her. He didn't demand explanations. He only looked at her like she had reached too close to a wound he was terrified to reopen.
Zariah pressed a hand against her forehead.
She had seen the photographs.
Not just random victims. Not just unknown faces.
One face she knew.
One face she could never forget.
Her own brother.
Michael.
Alive in the picture.
Or alive at the time of the picture.
Her breath caught again, tight and painful.
She slid down to the floor, her heart pounding so violently she swore it would break through her ribs. She tried to process the image, the date written at the bottom corner, and the scrawled note beneath it—messy, rushed handwriting that did not belong to Adrian.
"Asset compromised. Keep hidden."
Hidden?
Hidden where?
For a moment she thought she might be losing her mind. Michael had disappeared years ago. Everyone said he was dead. Even her mother had buried an empty coffin and given up hope.
But what if he wasn't dead?
What if… someone took him?
The silence of the room tightened around her.
She didn't know how long she sat there before she realized her cheeks were wet. She wiped the tears angrily. Crying wouldn't help. Crying had never helped.
A soft knock broke through her thoughts.
Her heart raced.
"Zariah," Adrian's voice murmured through the door, low and rough. "Open the door."
She froze.
She wasn't ready to face him. Not like this. Not with her emotions raw and her mind spiraling.
"Please," he added, softer.
After a long moment, she pushed herself to her feet and opened the door just enough to see him.
His eyes searched her face immediately. They softened, in the way they only did when he let his walls fall — when he forgot the contract, the rules, the darkness surrounding them.
Zariah stepped back, allowing him in.
Adrian walked inside, closing the door behind him. His shoulders looked heavier than she'd ever seen them, as though he had spent the last hour fighting himself.
"You're shaking," he said gently.
"No," she lied.
He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. His jaw was tight, but his gaze… it was full of something she had never seen directed at her so openly.
Worry.
Fear.
Guilt.
That combination scared her more than anything else.
"Adrian," she whispered, "why was my brother's photograph in that room?"
Adrian's breath caught — the smallest sound, but it made her stomach sink.
So he knew exactly what she had seen.
She stepped closer, voice breaking, "You knew about him. You knew he wasn't dead. Why didn't you tell me?"
His gaze flickered, then dropped. "Zariah… it's not that simple."
"It's my brother," she snapped, the anger finally rising through the numbness. "It can't get any simpler."
Adrian looked at her like a man cornered by a truth he could no longer escape.
"I didn't know how to tell you," he said quietly. "And I didn't have enough proof to give you hope. The last thing I ever wanted was to break you with a lie."
Zariah felt tears burn again. She shook her head.
"So instead you hid everything from me? You let me believe he was dead? Adrian, do you know what that did to my family? To me?"
He closed his eyes as if the weight of her pain pressed directly onto his chest.
"I'm trying to protect you, Zariah."
"You don't get to decide what I need protection from!"
Her voice cracked. She hated that it did, but she couldn't stop it.
Adrian stepped forward but hesitated inches from her, as if unsure whether she would push him away.
"What did you see exactly?" he asked softly.
"Enough," she whispered. "More than enough."
The air grew colder between them.
Zariah swallowed hard. "Tell me what happened to Michael."
Adrian's jaw tightened.
And that silence— that heavy, suffocating silence—told her everything.
He knew.
He had always known more than he claimed.
Zariah took in a shaky breath. "Adrian… please."
His eyes met hers. Something inside them cracked. She heard it in his voice, quiet and defeated.
"Your brother was targeted because of me."
Zariah felt the world tilt.
"No," she whispered. "No… Adrian, don't—don't say that."
"It's the truth," he said, voice steady but broken. "The people coming after me… they went after him first. They wanted information. Leverage. He refused to cooperate, and for that, they took him."
Zariah covered her mouth, a strangled sound escaping her.
Adrian moved toward her instinctively, catching her by the shoulders as she shook. "Zariah, listen to me—he was alive when I last got intel. I've been trying to find him for years. I never stopped."
She looked up at him through tears, disbelief and hope tearing her in opposite directions.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because you barely survived your own trauma," he whispered. "Because your heart already carried too many scars. Because if I told you he might still be alive, you would've thrown yourself into danger to find him. And I couldn't risk losing you too."
His voice trembled — Adrian Volkov's voice actually trembled.
Zariah's breath caught. Not because of his words, but because she suddenly understood them.
He wasn't protecting himself.
He was protecting her.
But that didn't erase the betrayal. It didn't erase the images burned in her memory.
She stepped out of his hold, wiping her face with shaking hands.
"I deserve to know the truth about my own life," she said, voice low but firm. "If I am living in your world… then don't hide that world from me."
Adrian slowly nodded. Something resolved in his eyes — something sharp and dangerous, but directed outward, not at her.
"Then I'll tell you everything," he said. "No more secrets. No more hiding."
Zariah nodded.
But then the lights in the penthouse flickered.
Both of them froze.
The flicker was brief — two seconds. But in this house, under constant threat, two seconds of darkness meant something was terribly wrong.
Zariah's heart hammered. Adrian instantly went into alert mode — shoulders tensed, eyes cold, every trace of softness gone.
He turned toward the door just as the security panel on the wall began flashing red.
Not the soft red of a malfunction.
The violent red of a breach.
Zariah's pulse raced.
"Adrian—"
He grabbed her hand, firm and steady. "Stay behind me."
A sharp alarm sliced through the silence.
Then another.
Followed by the metallic sound of the penthouse's reinforced locks disengaging.
"All locks disabled," a robotic voice announced.
"Unauthorized entry detected."
Zariah's blood turned to ice.
Someone was inside.
Not trying to break in.
Already in.
Adrian pulled her toward the corner of the room, his eyes razor-focused.
"Zariah," he whispered, voice a low warning, "whatever happens… do not run unless I tell you."
Her breath trembled. "Adrian… who is it?"
His jaw clenched. "The only people capable of bypassing my security."
A shadow passed beneath the door.
Zariah's heart stopped.
Adrian's grip tightened around her hand as the handle slowly turned from the outside.
And then —
The door began to open and no one was there.