Chapter 4 - Shadows in the Penthouse
High above the freezing streets of Manhattan, the penthouse of Vance Tower felt like another world.
Ava stood by the nursery window, rocking little Rose in her arms while her twin sister, Lily, slept peacefully in her crib just inches away. The gentle hum of the penthouse’s climate control system kept the room at a warm, comforting spring temperature—a stark contrast to the howling wind battering the thick, bulletproof glass outside.
For the first time in her life, Ava felt safe. Truly safe.
And yet, every shadow in the room still made her jump. The trauma of the past five years—the emotional abuse, the quiet degradation, the terrifying night she was thrown out into the snow—wasn't something that vanished overnight.
A soft knock sounded at the open nursery door.
Ava turned quickly. Elias stood in the doorway. He had removed his suit jacket, wearing a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing strong, corded muscles and faded scars that hinted at a violent past. He looked less like an untouchable mafia kingpin and more like a tired man seeking refuge from his own war.
“Are they sleeping?” Elias asked quietly, stepping into the room with deliberate care so as not to wake the babies.
“Just Lily,” Ava whispered, smiling softly down at Rose, who had finally drifted off against her shoulder. “Rose was fussy for a while, but she settled down. Thank you, Elias. For the cribs, the clothes, the doctor... I don't know how I’ll ever repay you.”
“You don't owe me a debt, Ava,” Elias said, stopping a few feet away. His dark eyes softened as he looked at the tiny infant in her arms. “In my world, everything has a price tag. But what I’m doing for you and your daughters isn't a transaction.”
Ava swallowed hard, feeling the familiar warmth rise in her chest whenever he looked at her like that—not with pity, but with absolute, unwavering respect.
“Marcus isn't going to give up,” Ava said, her smile fading as reality pulled her back to the surface. “I know him. When things don't go his way, he gets reckless. He’ll try to find a way to hurt us, even from behind your walls.”
Elias stepped closer, the sheer presence of him filling the small space with quiet strength. “Let him try. My intelligence network picked up a spike in encrypted communications from Marcus’s office this morning. He’s been in contact with Viktor Petrov.”
Ava’s breath hitched. Even living a quiet life, she had heard the whispers about Viktor Petrov—a ruthless Russian mobster known for collateral damage and brutal street tactics.
“The Russian Bratva?” Ava breathed, her eyes widening with alarm. “Elias, Petrov is your enemy! If Marcus is working with him—”
“Marcus is a drowning man thrashing at straws,” Elias interrupted smoothly, his voice completely devoid of fear. “He thinks aligning with the Russians gives him leverage against me. What he doesn't realize is that by inviting Petrov into his corporate circle, he’s just signed his own death warrant.”
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Elias reached out, his large, warm hand gently brushing against Ava’s shoulder, steadying her as a tremor ran through her body. The simple touch sent an electric shiver straight down her spine.
“You are safe here, Ava,” he repeated, his thumb lightly tracing the edge of her collarbone. “I didn't survive twenty years in the underworld by letting amateurs outplay me. Marcus Thorne is about to find out what happens when you wake a sleeping wolf.”
