Page 108 of Peasants and Kings
Somehow, Hadrian had known an intruder was coming, though I hadn’t heard a sound over the storm.
His home had been invaded.
How? Who was here? Who was Hadrian fighting?
My fear for him eclipsed all other emotions.
I hoped Hadrian’s brute strength and the fact that he hadn’t been caught by surprise would be his saving grace.
A boom of thunder echoed in the room and the resonance of rain hitting the stone balcony filled my ears.
There was another grunt, followed by a roar which resounded in my bones.
Hadrian had been injured.
I shivered and tried to keep silent when all I wanted was to go to him. But it wasn’t safe yet.
All I could think about was the fact that he had protected me. The first thing he did was get me under the bed, shielding me from what was coming.
There was a crash, followed by rapid footsteps on the hard wood floor.
And then nothing.
Even after the echoes of the fight ended, I didn’t move from underneath the bed.
A light turned on and black spots danced before my eyes. When my vision cleared, I could see Hadrian’s ankles in my line of sight, but I still didn’t budge.
I pressed my cheek to the floor, willing my heart to stop racing.
“Patrick,” Hadrian clipped, “I had an intruder on the east side. He’s escaped. Aye, I’m fine. No, don’t bother. The storm… I think the bastard was waiting for something like this.” He paused and then said, “Check the systems, though I doubt you’ll find anything. If I had to guess, I’d say we’re dealing with a professional. Let me know what you find… Yes, I injured him before he got away. Call as soon as you find anything.”
I heard him set his phone down on the bedside table.
His tone when speaking to Patrick had been unlike anything I’d ever heard. It wasn’t angry, but cool. Methodical. Like he was playing through the entire situation in his mind. Like he’d been giving a briefing of facts and hadn’t just fought hand-to-hand combat with an intruder.
“Sterling, you can come out now.”
My heart tripped in fear for an entirely different reason.
Hadrian had called me by my given name.
“Sterling,” he said again but with barely leashed control, nearly yelling over the sound of the storm outside, “I’m not going to ask you again.”
Swallowing my confusion, I crawled out. Adrenaline spiked my blood. Refusing to meet his gaze, I hastily pulled on the blue silk robe that rested on a chair in the corner of the room.
Hadrian sat on the side of the bed, his profile turned slightly toward me.
I was shocked to see a swollen lip, his bloody nose, and a crimson stained sheet he held pressed to his ribs.
My thoughts locked, and at that moment, nothing except tending to Hadrian’s wound mattered.
“Hadrian,” I shouted, going to him and kneeling down.
“It’s just a scratch,” he said, trying for a smile. It gave him a Joker-like appearance and caused me to flinch.
I wasn’t sure what to say. I wasn’t sure what questions I wanted to ask first.
“Is he gone?” I asked, gesturing with my chin to the balcony.
