Chapter 4 - The Safehouse in the Woods
The motorboat docked at an isolated, slate-roofed estate tucked deep into the dense, pine-covered bluffs overlooking Lake Michigan, miles north of the city limits. The property was heavily fortified, surrounded by high iron fences and security cameras concealed within the surrounding tree line.
As soon as the boat touched the wooden pier, medical personnel—a trusted family doctor and two tactical nurses retained by the Cole organization—were waiting.
“Get her inside, warm her up, and run a complete fetal monitor check immediately,” Adrian ordered before his boots even hit the dock.
“Adrian, I told you, I’m fine—” Maya started to protest, but a sudden, sharper contraction gripped her lower abdomen, causing her to catch her breath and grab onto a wooden piling.
Adrian was by her side in a fraction of a second, his arm sweeping under her knees to lift her up once more. This time, she didn't fight him; her face was pale, and the sheer physical strain of the past two hours was taking its toll.
“You’re not fine,” he said, his voice dropping into a low, fierce murmur as he carried her up the stone pathway toward the sprawling timber-and-stone mansion. “You’re exhausted, you’re terrified, and you’re carrying my daughter in a body that has been through hell today. Let them check you.”
Within minutes, Maya was settled in a warm, elegantly decorated master bedroom overlooking the lake. The private doctor, a trusted elderly woman named Dr. Helen Vance (no relation to Viktor), gently examined her while Adrian paced anxiously outside the closed bedroom door like a caged animal.
Inside, Dr. Helen smiled warmly as she checked the fetal heart monitor.
“The baby is strong, Mrs. Cole,” the doctor said softly, listening to the steady, galloping rhythm of the tiny heartbeat filling the room. “She’s resilient, just like her parents. But you are experiencing Braxton Hicks contractions brought on by severe physical and emotional trauma. I need you to rest—absolute bed rest for the next forty-eight hours.”
Maya exhaled a long, shuddering breath, her hand resting over her belly. “Is she really okay?”
“She’s fine. But you need to stay calm,” Dr. Helen advised, packing up her instruments. “Your husband outside is about to put a hole through the hardwood floor with his pacing. Shall I let him in?”
Maya hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Yes. Send him in.”
When the door opened, Adrian slipped inside immediately, closing it softly behind him. He walked over to the side of the bed, his tall frame looking uncharacteristically hesitant.
“Well?” he asked, his eyes searching her face.
“She’s okay,” Maya said quietly. “Her heartbeat is strong. The doctor said the stress caused some contractions, but... she’s holding on.”
Adrian closed his eyes, pressing a hand against his face as a massive wave of visible relief washed over him. For a moment, the untouchable mafia lord looked like a man who had just been granted a second chance at life.
“Thank God,” he whispered hoarsely.
“Adrian,” Maya said, her voice cutting through the emotional haze in the room. “You need to tell me everything. Who is Viktor Vance, and why is he targeting us now?”
Adrian pulled a chair close to the bedside, sitting down and resting his elbows on his knees, staring down at his clasped hands before looking up to meet her eyes directly.
“Viktor was my co-founder when we built the Syndicate out of the ruins of the old North Side gangs ten years ago,” Adrian explained, his tone flat and devoid of emotion. “For a long time, we operated on a strict code of mutual respect. But power corrupts, Maya. Two years ago, Viktor started branching into human trafficking and narcotics—lines I refused to cross. We split the organization.”
“And you thought divorcing me would keep me safe from his retaliation?” Maya asked, pieces falling into place.
“I knew he was planning a coup,” Adrian admitted. “I knew that once the war started, anyone connected to me would become a pawn. I wanted you legally separated, living under your maiden name in Atlanta, protected by a security detail you didn’t even know was there. I never imagined he would find out about the pregnancy before I did.”
“How did he find out?” Maya asked, her eyes narrowing. “Nobody in Atlanta knew except my sister.”
Adrian’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched in his cheek.
“A mole,” he said darkly. “Someone in my inner circle—or someone in your medical network back in Chicago before you left. I’m already hunting them down. By sunrise, whoever leaked your file will wish they had never been born.”
“And what happens now?” Maya whispered, looking around the luxurious, isolated room. “We can’t stay in this house forever. I have a life in Atlanta. My job, my apartment, my sister—”
“Your life in Atlanta is on hold, Maya,” Adrian interrupted, his voice firm and absolute. “Until Viktor Vance is buried six feet under, you are staying right here under my roof, under my protection.”
“And if I refuse?” she challenged, her chin lifting defiantly. “Are you going to lock me in this room?”
Adrian looked at her for a long, silent moment. Then, slowly, he reached out and gently placed his large, warm hand over hers where it rested on her swollen belly.
Beneath his palm, the baby gave a sudden, distinct kick.
May you like
Adrian’s breath hitched. A rare, tender smile touched the corners of his lips—a smile Maya hadn't seen in years.
“I wouldn't lock you in a room, Maya,” he murmured softly, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand. “I’d sit right outside your door every single second of every day until you realized that the safest place in the world for both of you... is right here with me.”
