A six-year-old boy carrying a baby interrupted my high-society wedding and called me "Daddy," completely unaware my bride was behind the plot to kill his mother.

Adrien didn't fire from a distance like an assassin. He charged out of the shadows like a freight train, closing the thirty-foot gap in three blinding seconds.

Before Briggs could align his sights, Adrien slammed into him with the full momentum of his body. The impact sounded like two cars colliding. Both men crashed into the gravel, sliding through the mud. Briggs’ silenced weapon went flying into the dark, churning waters of the Hudson.

Briggs was a trained enforcer, fifty pounds heavier and hardened by decades of violence. He recovered instantly, throwing a brutal elbow that caught Adrien squarely across the cheekbone. Adrien’s head snapped back, the taste of copper exploding in his mouth, but the pain only fueled his adrenaline.

Adrien drove his knee hard into Briggs’ ribs, hearing a satisfying crack, and rolled on top of him. He rained down heavy, punishing blows with his bare fists—one, two, three—each punch fueled by six years of stolen time, six years of lies, and the sight of Clara bleeding on the gravel.

"You took... my family!" Adrien roared, smashing his fist into Briggs’ jaw.

A second guard appeared from around the back of the second Suburban, raising an assault rifle. "Drop him or I fire!"

*THWACK.*

A heavy steel tire iron swung through the darkness, striking the second guard squarely in the back of the head. The guard crumpled to the ground like a sack of wet cement.

Standing behind him, leaning heavily against the side of the truck with her broken leg dragging, was Clara. She dropped the tire iron, her chest heaving, her eyes locked on Adrien.

"Adrien..." she gasped.

Briggs used the distraction to shove Adrien off him. He scrambled backward through the mud, his face a mask of blood and rage, reaching into his boot for a backup blade. A six-inch combat knife slid from the leather sheath with a metallic hiss.

"You're dead, Vance!" Briggs spat, lunging forward with a vicious upward slash intended to disembowel him.

Adrien sidestepped the blade, catching Briggs’ wrist in a crushing grip, twisting the joint violently until the knife dropped into the mud. Adrien followed through with a savage headbutt that shattered Briggs’ nose in a spray of red.

Briggs staggered back, collapsing to his knees against the bumper of the Suburban, clutching his ruined face.

Above them, the deafening roar of twin turbos shattered the storm.

A massive Sikorsky helicopter descended through the rain clouds, its high-powered searchlights turning the dark riverbank into high noon. The downdraft whipped the trees into a frenzy and sent river spray flying like shrapnel.

Four heavily armed men in black tactical gear slid down fast-ropes onto the gravel, weapons raised. Leading them was Marcus Vance, looking like an avenging angel of war with an assault rifle leveled directly at Briggs’ chest.

"Freeze! Don't move a muscle!" Marcus bellowed through the tactical megaphone.

The two remaining Montgomery guards in the woods immediately threw their weapons into the brush and dropped to their knees with their hands behind their heads.

Adrien didn't care about the perimeter. He didn't care about Marcus.

He turned around and collapsed to his knees in the mud in front of Clara.

She slid down the side of the truck, her strength completely spent, falling directly into his arms. Adrien pulled her against his chest, burying his face in her wet, tangled hair. She smelled of river water, copper, and the unmistakable, familiar scent of lavender that she had worn since she was nineteen years old.

"You're here," she sobbed, her cold, trembling fingers clutching the lapels of his soaked jacket. "You're really here..."

"I have you," Adrien choked out, the tears streaming down his bruised face, hot and unstoppable. "I have you, Clara. I’m never letting you go again. Never."

"The kids..." she gasped, panic suddenly flickering in her eyes. "Adrien, where are my babies?!"

Adrien pulled back slightly, cupping her battered face with both hands, his thumbs wiping away the blood and rain.