The city was alive with danger, the neon lights outside flickering like signals in a sea of chaos. Adrien's empire had never slept, and tonight the tension pressed against the walls of the safehouse, insistent and threatening. His phone buzzed relentlessly: a rival gang had made a bold move, probing for weakness, testing boundaries.
Adrien's eyes darkened as he reviewed the intel. Every detail, every move, every contingency flashed through his mind in precise sequences. Orders were dispatched: coded messages, silent alarms, secure pickup points. The city outside would not touch this haven. Not if he had control.
Yet inside, a different world hummed quietly.
Aldrin stirred in Luka's arms, small fists curling against the soft fabric of his onesie. Luka hummed low, rocking him gently, guitar resting nearby, untouched for now. Adrien's minions—some of the most trusted, skilled men and women in his empire—moved carefully around the apartment, subtle yet present. They were aware of the stakes, but here, in this domestic bubble, their roles shifted: protectors, guardians, occasional playmates for the baby.
One of them, Nino, crouched by Aldrin with a small rattle, shaking it gently. "Hey, little guy," he murmured, smiling beneath his usual stoic mask. "Want some music?"
Aldrin's eyes lit up immediately, hands reaching instinctively for the sound. Luka chuckled softly, exchanging a glance with Adrien. Even under the weight of mafia power, even amidst the tension of threats outside, this small domestic harmony pulled something rare from Adrien—a grin, brief, restrained, human.
"You've trained them well," Luka said quietly, blue-gray eyes observing. "They're… gentle."
Adrien stepped closer, arms crossed, watching Nino gently shake the rattle while Aldrin cooed. "They know what's important," he said softly, voice low. "Here… everyone knows their role."
Aldrin giggled as the rattle clinked against his tiny palms. Adrien's chest tightened unexpectedly. He had protected people before—employees, allies, enemies—but never like this. Never a life so small, so fragile, so untouchable.
"Uncley" Aldrin squealed suddenly, reaching toward Adrien with tiny hands. Luka's soft chuckle accompanied the gesture, and Adrien knelt slowly, careful not to overwhelm the baby. He let Aldrin touch his hands, the connection immediate and grounding.
Aldrin cooed again, unaware of the gravity outside, his tiny focus entirely on the man kneeling before him. Adrien's minions—Nino, Mylène, and a few others—watched from a distance, quietly smiling. Even the most hardened of them were softened by the presence of the baby, their expressions rarely so gentle.
Luka leaned closer to Adrien, whispering, "It seems that my son has a fav person now."
Adrien didn't respond immediately. Instead, his eyes flicked to the window—the neon glow reflected danger, the message of the outside world. A storm was coming. He could feel it in his bones.
The first sound was subtle: tires screeching outside, faint enough that only Adrien's trained ears picked it up. His jaw tightened. The rival gang had arrived earlier than expected.
"Stay calm," he muttered, voice low but commanding. He stood slowly, instincts kicking in, eyes scanning the apartment. The minions froze, reading the tension, understanding the unspoken command: protect the safehouse, protect Luka, protect Aldrin.
Luka's fingers brushed Adrien's arm. "Be careful," he whispered. Adrien nodded, then turned sharply. "Minions, secure the exits. Keep them away from the windows. No one touches the baby. I want surveillance ready. Every move reported."
"Yes, boss," Nino replied, already moving to check the perimeter. The other minions split into positions, silently executing Adrien's instructions with flawless precision.
Luka picked up Aldrin instinctively, moving toward the center of the room. "We'll be fine," he said, calm but protective. Adrien's gaze softened for a moment, just long enough to let Luka know he trusted him—but the tension returned immediately. Outside, danger waited.
Adrien moved to the monitors in the corner, scanning the streets. Three vehicles—blacked-out SUVs—approached slowly, calculating, testing the safehouse's defenses. Adrien's mind raced, calculating every angle, every contingency.
And yet… he kept one eye on the domestic scene. Luka hummed softly to Aldrin, rocking him gently. Nino crouched beside the couch with a small toy, Mylène hovered near the doorway, maintaining a balance of care and vigilance. Even amidst the threat, Adrien allowed himself to witness this bubble of peace—and desire.
The doorbell rang. Instantly, Adrien's muscles tensed. Outside, the attackers were testing the house. He motioned sharply to his minions. "Ignore it. Don't open."
Aldrin squealed, tiny arms stretching toward Adrien. Luka held him closer, whispering, "Safe. Always safe."
Adrien moved forward, brushing a hand lightly over Luka's back—not out of need, exactly, but habit, grounding, electric. Luka's eyes flicked up at him, understanding, teasing. The tension between them, already simmering, now burned slightly hotter—danger, domesticity, intimacy, all mixed together.
Adrien straightened, then leaned slightly closer. "You're calm under pressure," he murmured, voice low. "I… like that."
Luka smirked faintly. "It's necessary," he replied, voice soft but teasing. "Someone has to protect Aldrin… and you seem preoccupied."
Adrien's jaw tightened, pulse quickening. Preoccupied, yes. Distracted. But desire threaded through it, tangled with protective instincts. He let his fingers brush Luka's arm again, a light, teasing touch that made Luka's eyes flutter briefly.
Outside, the doorbell rang again, followed by faint knocks. Adrien's eyes darkened. "Stay here," he commanded softly, though the word carried no threat—only protection.
"Adrien…" Luka murmured, voice low. "Be careful."
"I always am," he said, though a faint smirk tugged at his lips. He left the domestic bubble behind, moving toward the door, his minions flanking him. The quiet safety of the apartment contrasted sharply with the violence outside, but the thought of Luka and Aldrin waiting—trusting him—fueled every step.
The confrontation was swift, calculated, precise. Adrien's presence was enough to unnerve the intruders, his minions executing silent strikes, disabling vehicles, and securing the perimeter. Every move was controlled, efficient, deadly.
When it was over, Adrien returned inside. Luka held Aldrin, now fully asleep, tiny hands resting against Adrien's sleeve. Adrien knelt, brushing a thumb lightly over Aldrin's cheek, grounding himself.
"You… handled it well, Mr. Agreste," Luka said softly, voice tinged with awe and amusement. "And we're all still alive."
Adrien's lips twitched. "Of course" His eyes flicked between Luka and Aldrin, chest tightening in a way that had nothing to do with fear.
Luka leaned slightly closer. "You look breadable."
Adrien's pulse spiked. That remark did caught him off guard. He let his hand linger near Luka's, brushing against his fingers, teasing, intimate. The moment was soft, smexy, grounding, and electric all at once.
Luka tilted his head toward Adrien, teasing. "Storm outside… calm inside. Seems like a pattern."
Adrien's lips curved, a rare, soft smile. "And I like it," he whispered, voice low, edged with both possessiveness and desire.
The night settled into a fragile balance again: storm outside, domestic warmth inside, tension and smexy electricity threading between them. Adrien watched Luka, watched Aldrin, watched his empire's protectors interact with the boy, and realized something he had never allowed himself to admit.
He wanted this. All of it. Danger, calm, music, desire. Luka. Aldrin. The storm and the calm entwined.
And he would protect it.