Two months after our divorce, my ex-husband cornered me in a Manhattan hospital and demanded to know why I was there alone. When I finally put my hand over the curve beneath my coat and told him I was sixteen weeks pregnant, Adrian Moretti, the man half of New York feared, went pale as he realized the impossible truth: the baby could be his.

00:01:12 00:01:11 00:01:10

I stood beside the foundation pillar in the damp basement, my arm aching from pounding against the iron pipe, my breathing coming in shallow, ragged gasps.

"Miss Bennett! We have to clear out now!" Marco yelled, grabbing my coat sleeve. "If that charge detonates, this entire subway section will collapse!"

"No!" I shouted back, wrenching my arm free. "He's up there!"

00:00:45

Suddenly, the heavy iron access door at the end of the corridor was kicked off its hinges with a violent crash.

Adrian burst through the dust and smoke, his suit jacket gone, his white shirt stained with dirt and gunpowder, his face a terrifying mask of panic and rage.

His eyes swept over the damp crawlspace, past Marco, past the glowing red timer on the pillar—and landed straight onto me.

His heart stopped.

"CLAIRE?!" he screamed, his voice cracking in utter disbelief. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!"

He sprinted across the concrete floor, closing the distance between us in two massive strides. He grabbed me by the waist, lifting me off my feet, pulling me against his chest, shielding my body with his entire frame as he threw us both behind a heavy steel structural beam twenty feet away.

"00:00:15!" Marco roared, diving behind an adjacent concrete barrier.

Adrian pinned me against the concrete wall beneath him, his heavy arms wrapped around my head and back, his face buried into my neck.

"Hold onto me, Claire!" he whispered fiercely, his body trembling against mine. "Hold onto me!"

I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders, closing my eyes tight, burying my face into his blood-stained collar, waiting for the end.

00:00:05 00:00:04 00:00:03 00:00:02 00:00:01 00:00:00

A sharp click echoed through the damp crawlspace.

Then... silence.

No explosion. No collapsing ceiling. No fire.

Only the quiet, steady hum of the subway ventilation system echoing through the dark tunnel.

Slowly, Marco raised his head over the concrete barrier, holding his tactical tablet. He looked at the LED screen on the pelican case.

The screen read: DEACTIVATED - MANUAL OVERRIDE BY FEDERAL SWAT UNIT.

"The federal tactical team just raided Antonio's waterfront headquarters three minutes ago," Marco gasped, letting out a wild, breathless laugh. "They seized his master signal transmitter and shut down the remote detonators citywide!"

Silence filled the concrete crawlspace.

Adrian didn't move. He remained leaning against me, his chest heaving with heavy, ragged breaths, his arms clutched tightly around my body as if he were afraid that if he let go, I would vanish into thin air.

Slowly, he pulled his face back, looking down at me.

His storm-gray eyes were wild, dark, and filled with a mixture of profound relief, terrifying anger, and unadulterated love.

"You came here?" he whispered, his voice trembling violently. "You left the safety of the estate... while carrying my children... to come into a bomb site?"

"I couldn't let you die, Adrian," I whispered back, tears finally overflowing my eyes, my hand reaching up to touch his bruised, dirty cheek. "I couldn't let my babies grow up without knowing their father."

Adrian closed his eyes, pressing his lips firmly against mine in a kiss that tasted of rain, salt, and raw, unrestrained passion.

It wasn't the polite, distant kiss of our married years. It was the desperate, fierce kiss of a man who had walked through hell and returned to claim the only thing that gave his life meaning.

When he finally pulled back, resting his forehead against mine, his hands cupped my face gently.