Keifer's POV
The private jet hadn't even finished taxiing before I was out the door. The humidity of the Philippines hit me like a physical blow, but it was nothing compared to the cold, tectonic rage shifting in my chest.
I didn't go to the hospital first. I couldn't. Not until I had purged the poison that was Mykle from the earth.
When I stepped into the basement of the Section E safehouse, the smell hit me—copper, stale sweat, and the stench of unadulterated fear. Angelo was already there. He had stripped off his suit jacket, his white sleeves rolled up to his elbows, stained with a spray of red that didn't belong to him. He looked up as I entered, his eyes two burnt-out craters.
"He's awake," Angelo said, his voice a jagged blade.
Mykle was strapped to a heavy steel chair in the center of the room. He was unrecognizable—a swollen, weeping mess of a man. One eye was puffed shut, and his breathing was a wet, rattling whistle. When he saw me, a pathetic, gurgling sound escaped his throat.
"Keifer... please... I am sorry.. .."
I walked toward him, my polished oxfords clicking rhythmically against the concrete. The sound was the only thing in the room besides his frantic breathing. I didn't stop until I was inches from his face.
"Sorry?" I whispered, the words vibrating with a primal hunger. "You hurt cin and my jay . You thought you could write your petty grievances in their blood?"
I didn't wait for an answer. I drove my fist into his solar plexus, not to kill him, but to steal the air he used to beg. As he wheezed, I grabbed his hair, forcing his head back to look at the ceiling.
"Angelo," I said, my voice eerily calm. "The pliers."
Angelo stepped forward, his movements fluid and predatory. He didn't hesitate. He handed me the tool like a surgeon assisting in a life-saving operation.
"You remember what you did to her?" Angelo asked Mykle, his voice dropping to a terrifyingly soft register. "You hit her until she didn't recognize her own blood. You turned a girl who loved the sun into a ghost who screams in the dark."
Angelo leaned in, his face inches from Mykle's other eye. "I'm not a businessman today, Mykle. I'm the man who watched his sister break. And I have all the time in the world to watch you do the same."
I gripped Mykle's hand, pinning it to the metal armrest. "You touched her with these," I snarled.
The first scream echoed off the damp walls, a high, thin sound that didn't even begin to pay the debt. Every time his eyes started to roll back, Angelo was there with a syringe of adrenaline, dragging him back into the light so he could feel every millisecond of his undoing.
We weren't just punishing him. We were dismantling a monster, piece by agonizing piece. By the time I stepped back, my knuckles were raw and my shirt was ruined, but the oily dread in my gut hadn't faded.
"He's still breathing," Angelo panted, wiping a smear of blood from his forehead. "What now?"
I looked at the wretch in the chair—a heap of meat that used to be a man. "Leave him to Section E. Tell them to keep him alive until Jay wakes up. I want her to be the one to decide if he gets to stop breathing."
I turned toward the exit, my mind already shifting to the sterile white room where my heart was currently shattered. "Let's go. Our sister needs us."
Jay's POV
The first thing I smelled was antiseptic and lilies. I cracked my eyes open, the harsh fluorescent lights stinging like needles.
"Jay? Oh god, Jay!"
Cin was the first face I saw. He looked wrecked, his own bandages a stark white against her skin, but his eyes were filled with a relief so bright it hurt to look at.
Beside him, Percy and Aries moved into my line of sight. Theylooked like he hadn't slept in a week.
"Hey," I rasped, my throat feeling like I'd swallowed glass.
"Don't talk, just breathe, Jay," Angelo said, stepping into the room. He looked older. Harder. He leaned down and kissed my forehead, his hand lingering on my hair as if to make sure I wasn't made of smoke.
I was shocked is it Angelo only or his duplicate.
We stayed like that for a moment—a broken family trying to find the pieces. I forced a small, shaky laugh at one of Percy's desperate attempts at a joke, the sound hollow in my chest.
Then, I saw it.
A shadow moved in the hallway, silhouetted against the frosted glass of the hospital door. My heart did a violent somersault. That height, that specific way of standing—broad shoulders, a slight tilt of the head.
Keifer.
The name physicalized in my mind, a mixture of agonizing love and the searing memory of him telling me I was just a pawn. I stared at the door, my breath hitching, waiting for him to walk in and tell me it was all a lie, that he was sorry, that he'd stay.
The shadow lingered for a heartbeat, then turned and walked away.
"Jay? What is it?" Angelo asked, noticing my stare.
I blinked, the stinging in my eyes returning. I looked back at my brothers and Cin.
"Nothing," I whispered, forcing a smile that didn't reach my eyes. "I just... I thought I saw someone. I misunderstood the light. It was just a doctor, I think."
Keifer's POV
I stood on the other side of the glass, my hand hovering over the handle. My fingers were trembling—a weakness I hadn't felt since I lost mom.
Through the small window, I watched her. She looked so small in that bed, swallowed by white sheets and tubes. But she was awake. She was laughing at something Percy said—a weak, fragile sound that felt like a knife twisting in my ribs.
I saw her eyes dart to the door. I saw the flash of recognition, the hope, and then the devastating ripple of pain that crossed her face before she looked away.
I did this, I whispered to myself, the words a silent confession in the sterile corridor. I told her she was a pawn to protect her, but I only succeeded in handing her over to a monster. I wanted to burst in, to pull her into my arms and tell her tat I am sorry , I'm heren was a , that I'd burn the world down before I let anyone touch her again.
But I couldn't. Not yet. I was still the man with a target on his back, and she was still the girl who had just looked at my shadow and wished it away. I would meet her again—truly meet her—only when I could be the shield she deserved, not the reason she needed one
I turned away, pulling out my phone as I marched toward the elevators. I dialed Section E.
"Mykle," I said, my voice dropping into a register of cold, absolute murder. "Keep him breathing. I don't care how many doctors you need. He doesn't get the mercy of death until I say so. He's going to feel every ounce of the terror he put in her eyes."