The heavy silence inside the penthouse was shattered only by the soft, rhythmic hum of the high-tech security system monitoring the Manhattan sky

The silence of the penthouse after Elias left was terrifying.

Even with four heavily armed guards posted around the perimeter and the gentle humming of the state-of-the-art security system, I couldn't rest. I sat on the king-sized bed in the master suite, nursing Rose while Lily slept soundly beside me.

Every creak of the glass, every gust of winter wind against the penthouse windows sent a wave of adrenaline through my veins. For three years, Marcus had taught me to fear the sound of heavy footsteps. He had beaten me down, step by step, stripping away my self-worth until I believed I was nothing more than a servant whose only purpose was to deliver him a male heir.

When the doctor announced I was carrying twins, Marcus had celebrated, buying expensive cigars and bragging to his underworld friends that he was going to have two sons to double his legacy. When they were born female, his pride turned to psychotic rage.

“You ruined my name!” he had screamed at me while I lay bleeding on our stained mattress. “Two useless mouths! Two curses!”

My thoughts were shattered by the sharp sound of gunfire echoing from the floor below.

I froze. Rose stopped nursing and began to cry. Lily stirred, taking her cue from her sister.

The penthouse doors burst open. I reached for a heavy brass lamp on the nightstand, my heart pounding in my throat, but it was only Viktor. He was holding an assault rifle, his face grim.

"They're inside the building," Viktor spat, pulling a tactical vest over his chest. "Marcone didn't wait for the midnight meeting. He sent a hit squad straight to the residential tower. Marcus must have tipped them off about the penthouse layout."

"Where is Elias?" I choked out, wrapping both babies into a sling I had fashioned from a silk scarf.

"The Boss fell into a diversion downtown. He's driving back now, but traffic is blocked. We have to move you to the reinforced bunker downstairs—now!"

Before we could clear the hallway, the reinforced double doors of the penthouse blew inward with a deafening BOOM. Flashbang grenades detonated, filling the air with blinding white light and a agonizing high-pitched ringing.

I fell to my knees, shielding the babies with my own body. Dust and shrapnel rained down on us. I heard Viktor roaring, the rhythm of automatic gunfire tearing through the luxury apartment, shattering marble vases and cutting down drywall.

"Ava! Get to the back!" Viktor’s voice echoed through the ringing in my ears.

I scrambled on my hands and knees, sliding behind the reinforced kitchen island. Through the smoke, I saw four men in black tactical gear advancing. And behind them walked a man in a rumpled leather jacket, his eyes wild with greed and malice.

Marcus.

"Ava!" Marcus bellowed, his voice sending a wave of nausea through my stomach. "Come out, you ungrateful bitch! Where are my daughters? Marcone’s giving me a million-dollar bounty if I bring Vance’s new pets to him!"

"They aren't your pets!" I screamed from behind the counter, clutching the crying infants. "You threw us out to freeze!"

Marcus laughed, a sound devoid of humanity. He stepped around a fallen guard, kicking the man's weapon away. "That was business, Ava. You failed your job. But now? Now you’re valuable. Vance picked you up, which means you’re his weak spot. Who knew a broken whore like you could be worth so much?"

He rounded the kitchen island, his gun raised. His face was just as I remembered—puffy from cheap alcohol, twisted with cruel arrogance.

"Hand them over," Marcus ordered, pointing the barrel at my forehead. "Or I'll shoot you right here and take them off your corpse. Marcone only needs the babies to break Vance anyway."

Fear, pure and suffocating, seized my chest. But as I looked down at my daughters’ pale, terrified faces, something inside me snapped. The submissive, broken girl who had endured years of abuse vanished. In her place stood a mother who had watched her children almost freeze to death under a bridge.

"No," I said, my voice surprisingly steady.

"What did you say?" Marcus sneered, stepping closer.

I didn't answer. Instead, I grabbed a heavy, boiling pot of water left on the induction stove from the guard's tea setup and slammed it directly into Marcus’s face.

He let out an ear-splitting shriek as the scalding water seared his skin. He stumbled backward, clutching his face, his gun clattering to the hardwood floor.

I didn't hesitate. I lunged forward, kicking the gun away under the refrigerator, and grabbed a ceramic chef's knife from the block.

"You will never... touch them... again!" I screamed, slashing wildly.

The knife caught Marcus across his cheek, leaving a deep, bloody gash. He howled, swinging his heavy fist and clipping the side of my head. I hit the floor hard, the world spinning, but I kept my body curled over my babies.

Marcus raised a heavy boot to stamp down on my head. "You crazy bitch! I'll kill you!"

Before his foot could land, a sound cut through the chaos—the sharp, unmistakable crack of a heavy-caliber handgun.

Marcus’s knee buckled as a bullet shattered his kneecap from behind. He collapsed to the floor, screaming in agony.

Standing in the shattered frame of the penthouse entrance was Elias Vance.

His coat was torn, his shirt splashed with blood that wasn't his own, and his eyes burned with an absolute, terrifying fury. Behind him lay the corpses of the other hitmen.

Elias stepped into the apartment slowly, deliberately, his heavy tactical boots crunching on the glass. He didn't even look at Marcus, who was squirming in a pool of his own blood on the floor. Elias’s eyes went straight to me.

"Are you hurt, Ava?" he asked, his voice deceptively calm.