August 8th, 2025
St. Evelyn's Home for Children, South Carolina - 7:44 PM
The smell of roasted turkey, garlic mashed potatoes, and warm rolls filled the dining hall, but the air felt anything but comforting.
Mathilda moved briskly between the kitchen and the tables, her steps quick and deliberate, balancing a tray of steaming dishes.
Beside her, Ellie carried a basket of bread in one arm and a pitcher of lemonade in the other. Their practiced coordination kept the food flowing, yet neither of them spoke much - perhaps sensing the mood already coiling in the room like a snake waiting to strike.
Two long tables dominated the hall. The first, near the fireplace, had been set for the children: mismatched chairs, chipped plates, and bright paper napkins folded in sloppy triangles.
The second table - larger, heavier, its surface gleaming under the overhead light - was for the adults. Fine porcelain plates. Polished silverware. Crystal glasses. Two worlds separated by just a few steps of worn wooden floorboards.
By the time all the food was set, everyone had taken their places.
At the children's table, Mathilda stood with her hands clasped, head bowed, leading them in prayer. "Lord, we thank You for this meal before us…" Her voice was steady, gentle, drawing the children into a ritual of gratitude.
At the adult table, however, there was no such calm. The silence was thick enough to choke on.
Ellie sat stiffly in her chair, her posture rigid, her eyes fixed directly across from her - where Jack, Victoria, and Elizabeth sat in a neat row. Jack slouched back in his seat, one arm draped over the chair, expression carved into a permanent scowl.
Victoria kept her hands folded on the table, her knuckles pale, eyes cast down at the untouched plate in front of her. Elizabeth, in contrast, looked perfectly composed, her gaze languidly sweeping the table, the faintest curve of amusement tugging at her lips.
Ellie cleared her throat softly, almost hesitant to disturb the quiet. But her question could not wait.
"Where's Ian?" she asked, breaking the silence like a dropped plate.
The prayer from the children's table continued in the background, but here, the air shifted.
Jack scoffed. A short, derisive sound that carried all the weight of contempt. "I saw the bastard before I came here," he said, voice dripping with disdain. "Walking down the road like he had somewhere better to be."
Ellie blinked, her brows knitting. "What?" The surprise in her tone was sharpened by a hint of worry. "Where was he going?"
Jack shrugged, eyes already moving to his plate, clearly uninterested. "Don't know. Don't care."
The way he said it made Ellie's stomach tighten. Jack's casual dismissal wasn't just cold - it was sounded like calculated. He wanted to sever Ian from the table's concern before anyone else could speak on it.
Across from her, Elizabeth's hand slipped into her coat pocket with a casualness that felt rehearsed. She drew out her phone, resting it on her lap where no one could easily see, and with a few subtle swipes, opened the tracking app.
She had used this very tool to follow Ian's movements all the way from Tokyo to South Carolina. It had been precise, reliable…
Until now.
The small blue dot pulsed on the screen, motionless.
Her brow furrowed. No movement. No departure. No road. According to the tracker, Ian was still here. Inside the orphanage.
Her eyes lifted, scanning the room slowly, as if he might suddenly emerge from some hidden corner.
Something was wrong.
Beside her, Victoria's composure was unraveling. At first, it was only in her eyes - the quick, darting glances toward the door, toward the staircase, anywhere Ian might appear. Then her lips pressed into a thin, trembling line. Her breathing quickened. Her shoulders drew in tight.
Her heartbeat thudded so violently she could feel it in her throat. The thought came like a crack of lightning.
He heard us.
The conversation earlier - the one she had fought to keep buried for years - had been a mistake. She had spoken too freely. Too close to the wrong ears. And if Ian had been anywhere near enough to hear…
Her vision tunneled for a moment. No. No. Please, God, no.
The truth - that she was the one who ensured Ian was sent back to this place, discarded like something unwanted - was the one thing she could never let him know. Not now. Not ever.
Her inner voice became a chant of panic. I'm so fucking stupid. I'm so fucking stupid.
Her lips moved before she realized she was speaking aloud. "My God… what did I do?"
The whisper was barely audible, but Elizabeth's eyes flicked toward her, sharp as a blade catching the light.
And then, slowly, a smirk spread across Elizabeth's face. It wasn't warm. It wasn't kind. It was the smirk of someone who saw opportunity where others saw disaster.
She leaned back in her chair, studying Victoria like a cat toying with a trapped bird. But the smug expression faltered just as quickly as it came, her mind inevitably circling back to Ian.
From the children's table, Mathilda's prayer came to an end. "Amen," the small voices chorused. Plates clinked, chairs scraped, the sound of forks and laughter began to fill the other half of the room.
But at the adult table, no one moved to eat.
Ellie's voice cut in again, there's a little worry in her voice."Just where the hell does think is he going?"
Georgetown, South Carolina - 9:12 PM
The city of Georgetown at night felt… still.
Not the kind of stillness that soothed the soul, but the kind that settled into your bones, forcing you to notice every flicker of a streetlamp, every shuffle of an unseen footstep.
Ian walked under a canopy of creaking oak branches that swayed lazily in the warm breeze. The air smelled faintly of saltwater drifting in from Winyah Bay, mixed with the faint tang of diesel from trucks rumbling in the distance.
His sneakers scuffed over uneven pavement, the sound almost too loud for the deserted sidewalks.
He wasn't really walking to get anywhere. The streets were just an escape route - not from people, but from his own thoughts.
Flashback in the warm glow.
The last time he wandered these streets, it had been during a rare sunny afternoon years ago.
Ms. Marlene had driven the van into town after a wealthy donor sent a fat check to the orphanage.
The kids had piled in, voices bouncing with excitement. Ellie had been pressed against the window, eyes wide at the clothing boutiques and candy shops.
Victoria had sat near the back, pretending not to care, but occasionally leaning forward to make some dry remark that made him laugh.
Ricky and Devonte had turned the trip into a running comedy routine - Devonte doing impressions of Ms. Marlene's no-nonsense voice, Ricky pretending to pass out dramatically in front of the bakery windows because the smell of cinnamon rolls was "too much for a man to handle."
And Ellie…
Ellie had teased him relentlessly. "You and Victoria should get matching jackets. I think a couple discount might apply if you hold hands."
Victoria had smirked at the jab, adding, "You'd look cute in red, Ian."
That memory now stung like a splinter under his skin.
Victoria.
Her name in his mind was a stone dropped in a still pond, sending ripples of betrayal outward. The "I love yous" they'd exchanged in Tokyo were painted over now in the ugly truth of her deceit. Every kiss, every shared laugh - all of it poisoned in hindsight.
He exhaled hard, shoving his hands deeper into his hoodie pocket, trying to push the ache down.
The sidewalk eventually spilled him into a smaller square where a row of bars and clubs pulsed with muffled basslines. Neon signs buzzed above doorways.
It was busier here, though the crowd wasn't rowdy - just loose, floating, enjoying the warm night.
Ian's pace slowed. He wasn't looking for trouble, but trouble had a habit of finding him.
That was when he heard it.
A fuss.
Raised voices, excited. Not panicked.
He followed the sound and saw the crowd clustered near the entrance of a small disco bar, camera flashes flickering like fireflies. People were yelling over each other:
"Madison! Madison! I love you!"
"Please take a picture!"
He froze at the name. "Madison?"
The word escaped his lips before he even realized he'd said it.
The crowd surged, and then she appeared - Madison herself, swaying on unsteady legs. Her eyes were half-lidded, her smile absent. She was drunk. No - gone.
Madison - dressed in a short, glittering dress that caught every bit of light.
Two men had her by the arms, holding her upright like she was luggage.
Three more followed, pushing into the crowd with practiced force. All five had the same look - that too-wide grin, that glint in the eye Ian had learned to recognize a long time ago. Predators.
The group broke free from the fans, ignoring the pleading requests for photos. They moved with purpose, dragging Madison along like she was theirs.
Ian's stomach dropped.
She didn't like him. Hell, she despised him. The feeling was mutual more often than not. But this…
This was different.
His legs started moving before his brain could argue.
He trailed them at a safe distance, letting the noise of the crowd cover his steps. His eyes never left Madison's slumped figure, her head rolling against one man's shoulder.
They cut left, away from the main street, slipping into a narrower passage lit only by the weak glow of a flickering security light. The deeper they went, the darker it got.
Ian's instincts screamed at him. This wasn't just bad. This was about to turn into a crime scene.
They stopped near the mouth of a dead-end alley. A dumpster sat to one side, the smell of rotting food wafting in the still air.
The two men holding Madison propped her against a wall. Her knees buckled slightly, but they kept her upright.
"So, which one's going first?" one of them muttered, grinning.
"Fuck that. Let's just use her three holes," another said, voice buzzing with excitement.
Ian's jaw clenched. His hands curled into fists in his hoodie pocket.
"Two of you keep lookout," the first one ordered.
"Hell no. I want to go first," the other shot back.
"Yeah, man. I'm dying to feel her. Don't be a cockblocker."
They were laughing now. Joking about her body like she was a toy they'd just unwrapped.
"Five of us? You think she can handle it?" one said with a dark chuckle.
"Dude, just look at her… she's perfect. As if the comics god blessed us a physical Wonder Woman."
"Shit, I want to fuck Wonder Woman ever since I've read the comics since I was a boy."
"Yeah, man, you're not wrong. God, she's too pretty for us. And she smells so good and addictive."
"Heh, lucky us, boys."
Ian's breath came slow, measured. His heartbeat wasn't.
His mind was split - part of him screaming to jump in, the other mapping the situation.
Five guys. Cramped alley. One drunk woman. No weapon. No backup. You take out the loudest first. Then the biggest. Keep the others between you and her.
The metallic tang of adrenaline filled his mouth.
Two of the men started peeling off Madison's jacket, their hands lingering on her toned muscly arms, her hourglass-like waist, her shapely, smooth, and long legs. She gave no reaction. The other three were unbuckling belts.
Ian moved. Slowly at first, sliding from behind the dumpster, using its shadow to mask his approach.
One step.
Two.
Three.
Close enough now to hear their breathing. Close enough to smell the cheap cologne mixed with sweat.
He straightened. No more sneaking.
"Hey, assholes.."
His voice was calm, but carried a razor edge.
Five heads turned in unison.
The sound of the words hung in the air like a dropped blade.
And then he engaged in his fighting stance. Boxing.
Just like the night when he was about to beat Daigo and his goons to death.
But that night was for himself...
Now, for the fiancée of his ex-girlfriend who hated his very existence.