August 9th, 2025
At St. Evelyn's Home for Children, South Carolina - 10:17 PM
The orphanage was cloaked in silence, the kind that seeped into the walls and lingered like rot. The children who weren't already locked away in their small rooms huddled together in corners, their tearstreaked faces buried in each other's shoulders.
Their cries were hushed now, reduced to trembling whimpers. Yet one sound refused to be silenced - the soft, high-pitched sob of the little girl Mathilda had shielded.
The sound cut through the heavy air, a reminder of the horror they had all been dragged into.
Mathilda sat on the cracked wooden floor near the wall, her posture slumped, her hair tangled and her eyes empty. Expressionless. She hadn't moved since Ian had last looked at her.
Her face betrayed no anger, no fear - just a void, the hollow shell of someone processing trauma so profound it stripped her of reaction. The child clutched against her chest wailed into her neck, and she rocked faintly, mechanically, as if her body still remembered what to do while her soul had shut down.
Ian couldn't take his eyes off her. Every second his chest constricted, guilt gnawed at him, and he felt the ties around his wrists cut deeper into his skin as he strained against them.
His veins burned with the urge to break free - not for himself, but for Mathilda, for that child. For all of them. He twisted, tugged, tried to angle his wrists. The rope tore his skin raw. Nothing.
Lionel stood with his men near the entrance, pacing with impatience, his sharp eyes fixed on the window where a black car had pulled up moments ago. His jaw tightened. "Who the hell…?" he muttered under his breath.
Beside him, Daigo leaned casually on his iron bat, smug as ever. His grin was crooked, mocking. "Another visitor? Looks like we're popular tonight."
"Shut up," Lionel snapped, eyes narrowing. He turned to one of the male killers by the door. "Go. Check who the hell that is."
The man gave a curt nod and stepped outside, the door groaning as it shut behind him. The sound of his boots crunching on the gravel outside faded quickly.
Lionel pivoted back toward the room, his tone sharp and commanding. "You three-" he jabbed a finger at the female killers standing like statues against the wall -"grab the bastard. We're moving him now."
But the three women didn't move.
Lionel's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Are you deaf?" His voice cracked like a whip. "I gave you an order!"
Daigo chuckled, leaning forward with his usual venom. "You heard the boss. Useless bitches. Move!"
Still, the women remained rooted where they were. Silent. Watching.
Ian noticed it first - the stillness in their posture wasn't defiance, but anticipation. As if they weren't waiting for Lionel's order… but for someone else's.
Kira noticed too. Her eyes widened in sudden recognition, her gut sinking. She felt it, that creeping sense of dread wrapping around her spine. She took a step back, voice low, urgent. "We need to leave. Now. I know who this is. This is going to go wrong."
Lionel's head snapped toward her, disbelief flashing across his face. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
Before Kira could answer, a thunderclap cracked through the silence.
BANG!
A gunshot split the air. The echo rang off the cracked plaster walls. Everyone flinched instinctively - everyone except the three women.
"What the fuck!" Daigo barked, whipping his head toward the door.
The knob turned slowly, deliberately, and the door creaked open.
A figure stepped inside. The room seemed to shrink, the air tightening, suffocating. She walked with grace, with certainty, her dark silhouette cutting through the stale light of the orphanage.
Ruth.
Her eyes glimmered with a quiet madness, her smile sharp and victorious, like someone who had planned every step of this moment and finally set her trap.
A gun rested loosely in her hand, smoke still rising from its barrel. She scanned the room with the composure of a queen entering her court.
Kira froze. "Sister?" Her voice cracked with shock, with disbelief. "What are you doing here?"
Lionel's glare hardened, though his lips curled with bitter recognition. "You." His voice dropped into a dangerous growl. "Of course. Ruth."
Ruth chuckled softly, ignoring them both. Her eyes softened only when they landed on Ian, bound and bloodied in the corner. "My love," she whispered, almost tenderly. Her smile widened, intoxicated with affection. "They thought they could take you from me."
Ian's stomach twisted. Not relief, not gratitude - just exhaustion. He exhaled deeply, muttering under his breath, "Not this shit again."
Lionel's voice cut sharp. "Answer me! What the fuck are you doing here?"
Finally, Ruth tilted her head, her dark hair spilling across her cheek. "What I always do," she said simply, her tone dripping with venomous confidence. "Protecting what's mine. And punishing anyone who thinks they can fuck with the love of my life."
She flicked her gaze toward the three silent female killers. A small nod. Nothing more. But it was enough.
The killer closest to Ian unsheathed her katana with a soft metallic hiss. Before anyone could react, she sliced cleanly through the ropes around his wrists. The bonds fell away.
"What the fuck!?" Daigo exploded, spittle flying from his lips as his smug confidence crumbled. "You've gotta be fucking kidding me!"
Kira, torn between admiration and fury, couldn't help but let a breathless laugh escape. "You....," she muttered to her sister. "You… came for the bastard, didn't you??."
Lionel's expression, however, didn't falter. His glare never left Ruth. He had known she was dangerous. Cunning. Ambitious. He had expected this, deep down. And yet seeing her unravel his carefully laid plans still burned his pride raw.
Ian wasted no time. His arms ached, but he ignored the pain, surging forward. He crossed the room in a few strides, kneeling beside Mathilda and the child.
He placed his hand on her shoulder, his voice rough but steady. "Come on. Let's go outside."
Mathilda blinked once, twice, as if surfacing from a fog. She said nothing, but when Ian pulled her gently to her feet, she rose without resistance, clutching the child tightly. Together, they staggered toward the door.
Behind them, the three women moved into formation, taking position at Ruth's back. Their loyalty was wordless, absolute.
Lionel's voice dripped with venom. "So they're on your payroll now?"
Ruth smirked, savoring the question. "Always."
One of the women added coldly, "Sorry, Kawasaki-sama, but your daughter-in-law pays more."
From outside, the faint wail of sirens drifted closer. Police. Time was collapsing in on them.
Daigo's composure shattered entirely. Rage flooded him, blinding him. His teeth bared in a feral snarl as he lifted his bat. "I'll fucking kill you, Ian!" He charged forward, the metal bat raised high, his eyes gleaming with bloodlust. "You useless piece of shit! You're dead!"
Ruth chuckled under her breath, her smile widening as if watching a child's tantrum. "Pathetic."
Daigo was almost on Ian when steel flashed. One of the women stepped between them, her katana singing as it cut through the air. In one fluid strike, she severed both of Daigo's arms at the elbow.
The bat clattered to the floor.
Daigo's scream was inhuman. A raw, guttural howl ripped from his throat as blood sprayed across the floorboards, painting the room red. He crumpled, writhing, his eyes wide with animal terror. "My arms! MY FUCKING ARMS!"
The children screamed. Some buried their faces; others cried louder, their fear piercing. Mathilda tightened her grip on the child, shielding her eyes.
Ian turned away, pulling Mathilda and the girl further toward the exit. His chest clenched at the sound of Daigo's agony, but his focus remained - to get them out. Now.
Ruth's eyes never left Lionel. She raised her gun lazily, though she didn't fire. Her words were colder than the barrel itself. "Word of advice?" She stepped forward, her voice low, dangerous. "Always analyze everything. Always. And stay the fuck out of my way."
It wasn't a warning. It was a threat. A promise.
Then she lowered her gun, turned, and strode out after Ian, her killers falling in line like shadows. Her heels clicked against the floor, each step deliberate, final.
Kira lingered, torn in half. Her admiration for her sister burned in her chest, but so did the sting of betrayal. She knew Ruth came for Ian.
With a final glance at Lionel - broken, furious, defeated - she turned and rushed outside.
Silence fell heavy. Only Daigo's agonized howls filled the space, echoing off the walls, mingling with the approaching wail of sirens.
Blood pooled beneath him, his bat forgotten. Lionel stood still, his last male killer hovering nervously at his side.
Half an hour later...
The orphanage was alive with noise. Sirens wailed outside, red and blue lights bleeding through the broken windows, flashing against the cracked plaster walls and the splintered wooden doors.
The chaos of gunfire and screams had passed, but the aftermath lingered like smoke - thick, suffocating, unforgettable.
The children, huddled in corners and behind makeshift barricades, trembled as uniformed police streamed through the entrance.
Some officers shouted orders, others rushed to secure the scene, but it was the sight of them - badges gleaming, weapons raised - that finally broke the suffocating tension.
Ian knelt on the floor of the main hall, surrounded by Mathilda and a cluster of frightened children. His shirt was streaked with grime and sweat, his hands raw from the ropes that had bound him.
His arms wrapped protectively around two of the smallest kids, holding them close, while Mathilda sat silently beside him.
Her face was pale, her eyes blank. No tears, no trembling lips - just an unsettling stillness, as though she had locked her emotions away in some unreachable place.
The little girl she had shielded earlier clung desperately to her, sobbing into her shoulder, but Mathilda's arms moved mechanically, comforting without truly feeling.
Ian stroked her hair softly, his voice low and steady.
"It's over now. You're safe… all of you are safe."
The children looked at him with wide, glassy eyes, as though afraid to believe him. One boy whispered, "They're not coming back?"
"No," Ian said firmly, though a part of him wasn't sure. "Not while I'm here. I promise."
Just a few steps behind him, Ruth stood like a queen surveying her conquered kingdom. Her sharp heels clicked lightly against the floor as she moved, her presence commanding even amid the armed officers and the chaos outside.
Her three assassins - the female killers - stood silently at her flanks, their posture almost ceremonial.
Ruth's gaze shifted to the parked black SUVs. But one was mission. Apparently, Kira ran away...
Then came to Lionel as Ruth watched him dragged out by two policemen.
His hands were cuffed tightly behind his back, but the fury in his eyes was untamed. He twisted his neck just enough to glare past the crowd, fixing his gaze on Ian.
That glare wasn't desperation. It wasn't panic. It was a promise - a vow carved into his very being.
Beside him, the last surviving male killer was shoved into another squad car, his protests muffled by the siren's cry. And just a few feet away, paramedics worked frantically over Daigo.
His arms - or what remained of them - were bandaged hastily as he writhed on the ground, shrieking in agony. His face was a mask of blood and snot, his eyes red with pain and humiliation.
Ian heard him, but he didn't turn. His attention was on Mathilda and the children, his voice continuing in soft reassurances that sounded more like prayers.
Ruth tilted her head, a cold smile tugging at her lips as she looked at Daigo. His screaming seemed almost musical to her, a fitting punishment for daring to lay a hand on what she now considered hers.
Then, she turned her head slightly as one of the female killers leaned closer.
"Tachibana-sama," the assassin murmured, her voice low and respectful. "What of your husband? We received word he was following you?"
One of the female killers mirked faintly. "Yes… I was expecting him to show up.
"Don't worry about it. He's been taken care of." Ruth said.
The female killer raised a brow. "Taken care of?"
"What matters," Ruth interrupted, her eyes shifting back to Ian, "is that he's safe."
The assassin bowed her head and stepped back. Another chimed in, admiration coloring her tone.
"Well played, Tachibana-sama. You orchestrated this as though you foresaw every move. You knew Kawasaki-sama would come for Ian Everhart."
Ruth chuckled lightly. "Lionel is powerful, influential, dangerous. But… he's also predictable. And predictability is a weakness."
Her words carried a finality that silenced her entourage. No one questioned further.
Satisfied, Ruth finally crouched down beside Ian. He stiffened slightly at her nearness, but didn't move away.
She smiled warmly - though the warmth was rehearsed - at Mathilda and the children.
"You've all been so brave," she said softly, her voice laced with faux tenderness. "I'm sorry you had to go through this… predicament, because of my father-in-law."
Mathilda blinked slowly, wary. Her voice cracked as she asked, "Who… who are you?"
Ruth placed a delicate hand on her chest, her smile unwavering. "I'm Ian's loving wife."
Mathilda's lips parted slightly, her eyes flicking from Ruth to Ian, searching for some confirmation.
Ian said nothing. His silence wasn't agreement, nor was it denial. His focus was still on the children pressed against him, his jaw tight, his shoulders taut with restraint.
Ruth, undeterred, continued. "I owe you all an apology. None of you should have been caught in this storm. If there's anything you need… anything at all… ask me."
Mathilda studied her carefully. For a moment, something softened in her expression, the faintest shadow of a smile tugging at her lips. But deep down, Ian knew - Ruth's words weren't for Mathilda.
They weren't for the children. They were for him. Every gesture, every sweet syllable was another brick in the fortress she was building around his life.
A shadow passed through the doorway. A police captain, his face lined with weariness, approached cautiously. His cap tucked under his arm, he spoke with deference that was almost unnatural.
"Tachibana-sama," he said quietly. "It's been taken care of. These people will be deported back to Tokyo as soon as possible."
Ruth's lips curved. "And the other guy? Leo Kawasaki?"
The captain shifted uneasily, then nodded. "Also taken care of. Our associates confirmed. You can rest easy."
Ruth's eyes gleamed. "Good. Very good." She dismissed him with a flick of her fingers, her attention already returning to Ian.
Ian, however, wasn't listening. His gaze had shifted toward Daigo, whose howls of pain still filled the air.
His teeth clenched, his heart pounding with the memory of Mathilda's terror, of the iron bat swinging too close to her.
Under his breath, he muttered, "Bring Daigo to me."
Ruth's smile widened, her eyes glinting with dark delight. "As you wish, darling."
She signaled with a subtle gesture, and within seconds, two officers hauled the mutilated Daigo closer, ignoring his furious protests.
His legs kicked weakly, his head thrashing side to side as blood dripped down his body. He spat curses at Ruth, at the police, at Ian.
"You think this is over?" he snarled through clenched teeth. "You're nothing! Both of you - nothing!"
Ian didn't rise. He simply looked at him, his gaze heavy with something colder than anger.
Disappointment. Disgust. Hatred, yes, but tempered by restraint. He didn't need to speak. His silence was enough to cut Daigo deeper than any blade.
Ruth, however, leaned closer to Daigo, her tone dripping with mock sympathy.
"Look at you. All bark, no bite. Maybe next time you'll think twice before laying a hand on what belongs to me."
Daigo roared, spittle flying, but his broken body betrayed him. He could do nothing but scream.
Behind them, Lionel sat rigid in the back of a squad car, his hands cuffed but his spirit unbroken. His glare locked on Ian and Ruth through the glass, and though the sirens drowned his voice, his lips moved clearly enough for Ruth to read.
This isn't the end.
Her smirk faltered for just a second, replaced by a calculating silence.
As the last of the killers were hauled away, the orphanage seemed to exhale. The children's cries grew quieter.
Officers began sweeping rooms, reporting back, restoring order brick by brick. The air was calmer now, but beneath it all lay a current of unease - a sense that this peace was fragile, temporary.
Ruth stood once more, smoothing the wrinkles from her dress. She looked down at Ian, who still held Mathilda and the children close. His expression was weary, hardened by fury and softened by duty.
She smiled, victorious.
Lionel might have been in chains. Daigo might have been broken. But Ruth knew the war wasn't over.
And Ian knew, too.
Because even in this moment of calm, the shadows outside still lingered, waiting for their chance to strike again.