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The engine purrs softly as I drive aimlessly, the empty roads ahead a faint blur. The early morning sky is painted with muted tones, clouds hanging low like my mood. I grip the steering wheel tighter, frustration simmering just below the surface. She’s mine now—caught, cornered—but the satisfaction I expected isn’t there.

I should hate her. After all, she nearly killed me. Poisoned me, left me for dead, and ran with my bloodline in tow. She did it with no hesitation. Yet here I am, unable to bring myself to end her the way I’ve ended countless others who’ve crossed me. Why? Why does her betrayal feel different?

My fingers drum on the leather wheel as I replay every moment of the past few days. Her defiance, her fire, the way she stood her ground even when she was at my mercy—it all fuels something in me I can’t fully understand.

The sharp buzz of her phone interrupts my thoughts. I glance at the screen. Hannah.

I let it ring once, twice, before answering, pressing the phone to my ear. Silence stretches as I wait, not speaking, letting the caller make the first move.

“Chiara, it’s Hannah,” a woman’s voice says, breathless and urgent. “The kids are waiting for you at Davey Avenue. Everything’s set, just like we planned. Don’t worry—they’re safe.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. The kids. My children.

I end the call abruptly, tossing the phone onto the passenger seat. My jaw tightens as I turn the car around, the address seared into my memory.

***

The house is modest, a far cry from the luxury Chiara grew up in. It’s tucked away in a quiet neighborhood, the kind of place designed to disappear. I park across the street and step out, taking a moment to steady myself before walking up the driveway.

I ring the bell, the sound sharp and hollow in the stillness. The door creaks open, and a young woman peers out. She’s slight but composed, her eyes widening when she sees me. This must be Hannah.

“Who are you?” she demands, her voice trembling despite her bravado.

Before I can answer, two small heads peek out from behind her. A boy and a girl. They freeze when they see me, their wide eyes filled with curiosity and confusion.

“Is that Mommy?” the girl asks, her small voice tentative.

“No, sweetheart,” Hannah says quickly, her hand instinctively moving to block their path. “Stay back.”

The boy steps forward, his face lighting up with hope, but then he stops short, realizing I’m not who he expected. His small frame stiffens, and he grabs the girl’s hand, pulling her close.

“Who are you?” Hannah repeats, her tone sharper now. She tries to mask her fear, but I can see it clearly.

“I’m here for Chiara,” I say, my voice cold and deliberate.

Her expression falters, and she looks from me to the children and back again. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’m very serious,” I reply, stepping closer. “Now, step aside.”

“Leo, Alyssa, go inside.” Hannah doesn’t move, her chin lifting defiantly. “Chiara isn’t here, and her children-”

“These are her children?”

Hannah’s face goes pale. She grips the door in a white-knuckle grip, eyes wide. “I don’t, you-”

I look at the children. They’re barely older than toddlers, three or four, perhaps. Anger rolls in my gut as I realize… the timeline works. Either Chiara was fucking somebody else, or…

Or those two kids are mine.

Somehow, I know the truth.

The kids cling to Hannah, their little faces a mix of fear and confusion. It’s a sight I wasn’t prepared for, and it twists something deep inside me. I didn’t come here for sentimentality, but seeing them—so small, so vulnerable—makes this personal in a way I hadn’t anticipated.

“Hannah,” I say, lowering my tone but keeping the edge. “I’m taking my children. Move, or I’ll move you myself.”

Her resolve wavers, and for a moment, I think she might resist. Then she steps aside, her face pale and tight with worry.

“Leo, Alyssa,” I say, crouching to their level. They don’t move, their wide eyes locked on mine. “Come here.”

Leo tightens his grip on Alyssa’s hand, and they both press closer to Hannah. I rise, exhaling sharply. This isn’t how I envisioned this moment.

“Get them ready,” I order Hannah. “We’re leaving.”

“You’re making a mistake,” she says quietly, but she does as I command, her hands trembling as she gathers their things.

The room feels eerily quiet except for the occasional sniffle from the children clinging to Hannah. My eyes sweep over the modest living room, taking in its simplicity. It’s nothing like the places Chiara would have grown up in, yet it feels like her. Warm, inviting, understated. My gaze halts on a picture hanging on the wall. A framed photograph.

Chiara stands in the middle, smiling—a real smile, not the calculated ones I’ve grown accustomed to. On either side of her are two children, their small hands clutching her. A boy and a girl, no more than four or five. They have the same bright blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. Sharov eyes.

It’s impossible to miss.

Leo, the boy, is a spitting image of me. My jaw, my cheekbones, my eyes. It’s like looking at a photograph of myself as a child. The girl, Alyssa, has Chiara’s delicate features, but those eyes… they’re unmistakably mine. The realization settles over me, heavy and inescapable. These are my children .

For a moment, everything else fades. The betrayal, the lies, the years apart. None of it matters when faced with this undeniable truth. My kids. Mine .

I step closer to the photo, my fingers itching to touch it, to hold this tangible proof of their existence. Hannah shifts uneasily behind me, and I hear her whisper something to the children. My focus snaps back, the moment shattered.

“What did you just say?” I demand, turning to her, my voice like ice.

Hannah pulls the children closer, her defiance flickering even as fear flashes in her eyes. “Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me.” My voice drops, dangerously low. In two strides, I’m in front of her. I grab her by the arm, spinning her toward the wall and pinning her there. My hand tangles in her hair, yanking just enough to make her wince. “What. Did. You. Say?”

Her breath comes in shaky gasps as the children’s cries grow louder, filling the room with panicked wails. Leo clutches Alyssa’s hand, his small face streaked with tears. I see him watching, trying to be brave, but the sight only fuels my frustration.

“I told them it would be okay!” Hannah blurts out, her voice cracking. “That’s all! I swear!”

Her words hang in the air as I study her, searching for any sign of deception. My grip tightens for a moment, my anger still simmering, but then I release her. She stumbles back, pressing her hand to her head where my fingers had tangled in her hair.

“You’re lucky I believe you,” I hiss. “Make no mistake, Hannah. If you tell anyone I was here, or if you so much as think about calling the authorities, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Her face pales, but she nods quickly, her trembling hands resting on the children’s shoulders. “I won’t. Please… just leave them here. They’re safe with me.”

I scoff, shaking my head. “They’re not safe anywhere but with me. Pack their things. Now.”

Hannah hesitates, looking at the children, who are still crying softly. Her protective instincts flare, and I can see her debating whether to fight me further.

“I said, pack their stuff .” My voice cuts through the tension like a blade.

Slowly, she nods and moves toward a small closet. The kids watch her, their faces full of fear and confusion, and it makes my chest tighten in a way I don’t like. They’re too young to understand what’s happening, too innocent to be caught in the middle of this mess. Yet here we are. Chiara did this. She kept them from me, lied to me, and forced my hand.

While Hannah hurriedly gathers their belongings, I glance down at the kids. Alyssa’s tear-streaked face is buried in her brother’s shoulder, and Leo stares up at me, his blue eyes wide and searching. My heart stirs uncomfortably.

“Hey,” I say, crouching to their level. My voice softens, though the effort feels foreign. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

Leo doesn’t respond, but his small hand tightens around Alyssa’s. I don’t miss the way he steps in front of her slightly, as if to shield her. The gesture pulls at something deep inside me. Protective, just like me.

Hannah shoves a small duffel bag into my hands, her expression tense and wary. “That’s everything. Please don’t hurt them.”

“I don’t hurt what’s mine,” I say flatly, slinging the bag over my shoulder.

Her lips part as if to argue, but she snaps them shut, wisely staying silent. I motion for the children to follow me, but they hesitate, clinging to Hannah’s legs.

“It’s okay,” she murmurs, crouching down to their level. “Go with him. Your mommy will come back for you.”

Her reassurance does little to calm their fears, but after a long pause, Leo takes Alyssa’s hand and steps forward. I reach for them, my chest tightening again as their small hands slip into mine.

As we step out into the cool Montana air, the gravity of the situation settles fully on my shoulders. They’re mine. No matter what it takes, I’ll keep them safe. From Chiara. From the world. Even from myself, if I have to.

The air feels heavy as I open the car door and gesture for the children to climb in. Alyssa hesitates, her tiny frame trembling as she clings to Leo’s arm. He doesn’t move right away, his wide blue eyes darting between me and the car’s dark interior. Their fear is palpable, and it settles in my chest like a weight I can’t shake.

“Get in,” I say, my tone firm but not harsh. I crouch down slightly, trying to make myself seem less intimidating. “It’s just a car ride.”

Leo swallows hard, his jaw tightening in that way children do when they’re trying to be brave. Slowly, he leads Alyssa forward, helping her climb into the backseat before following her. She immediately presses herself into the corner, her small body curling up like she’s trying to make herself disappear. Leo stays close to her, his hand wrapped protectively around hers.

I belt them in and close the door gently, then move to the driver’s side and slide into the seat. As I start the engine, the sound makes Alyssa flinch. The silence between us is suffocating, broken only by their uneven breaths. I glance at them in the rearview mirror, their faces pale and full of fear.

“You don’t have to be scared,” I say, keeping my voice as calm as I can manage. It feels foreign, trying to soothe someone. “We’re going home. To your new home.”

They don’t respond. Alyssa stares out the window, while Leo watches me with round eyes.

I clear my throat, gripping the wheel tightly. “Do you want to see your mommy?”

Leo’s expression shifts, the faintest flicker of hope crossing his face. He nods, his grip on Alyssa’s hand tightening.

“Then be good,” I say simply. “She’ll be happy to see you too.”

Alyssa manages a smile, and her little shoulders relax. They’re warming to me.

The road stretches out ahead of us, long and empty. I keep one eye on the rearview mirror, watching their reflections. They’re so small, so fragile, yet there’s something about them that feels unbreakable. It’s in the way they hold on to each other, an unspoken bond that nothing—not even me—can sever.

I focus on the road, pushing down the strange mix of emotions swirling in my chest. They’re mine. My blood. Whether they know it yet or not, I’ll protect them. Even if that means keeping them away from their mother. For now.

The engine hums steadily as the Montana landscape blurs past. The children remain silent, their fear hanging in the air like a storm waiting to break.