Before Adrian could process the agonizing truth, the sound of heavy, arrogant footsteps echoed from the ground floor. Multiple men were coming up the stairs, their rough laughter bouncing off the concrete walls.
"Get behind me," Adrian growled, his grief instantly morphing into the cold, lethal rage of the Don.
Three men stepped onto the fifth-floor landing. The leader was a broad, scar-faced enforcer wearing a cheap leather jacket—Tony "The Vulture" Rizzo, a mid-level loan shark who operated in the lower districts without Adrian's permission.
"Well, well," Rizzo sneered, not recognizing Adrian in the dark hallway. "Look what we got here. A couple of old suits wandering around the slums. Get out of the way, old man. The widow inside owes five grand, and tonight she pays... one way or another."
Rizzo reached for the doorknob of Sofia’s apartment.
He never touched it.
In a fraction of a second, Adrian lunged forward. He grabbed Rizzo by the throat, slamming the heavy man back against the concrete wall with a force that shattered the plaster. Before the two henchmen could draw their weapons, Charles, a former military man despite his age, swept the legs out from under the first lackey, while Adrian pulled his custom chrome pistol and pressed the cold barrel directly beneath Rizzo’s chin.
"You have five seconds to explain why you are standing outside my housekeeper's door," Adrian whispered, his voice dangerously calm, his dark eyes burning with absolute murder.