Pure, unadulterated joy burst through Ethan's chest.
"Father is here!" he gasped, practically jumping off the bed as his face lit up like a lantern.
Before he could take two steps, the heavy oak door swung open, and Damian stepped across the threshold.
"Ethan!" Damian called out, his voice thick with emotion.
In that fleeting second, all tactical training, exhaustion, and trauma vanished. Father and son lunged into each other's arms like two children reuniting after a nightmare.
Damian scooped Ethan up, pulling him into an iron embrace, burying his face in his son's hair.
"Ethan... , I missed you so much," Damian whispered, his voice trembling.
"I missed you too, Father," Ethan choked out, hot tears finally spilling down his cheeks as he held onto Damian's coat with all his strength.
Damian held him close, refusing to let go. From across the room, Ophelia stood silently, watching the raw reunion with a soft, affectionate expression—much like watching two old friends embrace after years apart.
Turning slightly to her side, Ophelia whispered to Isabel, "Where is my son?"
"My Lady, he messaged saying he would be here in just a few minutes," Isabel replied in a low tone.
Ophelia nodded smoothly.
Setting Ethan down, Damian turned to Ophelia, his hand still resting protectively on his son's shoulder. "Thank you for protecting Ethan. I owe you a debt."
Damian studied her features for a fraction of a second, a faint flicker of recognition passing through his mind.
Have I seen this woman somewhere before?
Ophelia offered a polite smile. "You two need time to reconnect. I'll step outside and give you some space."
"Thank you, Miss Ophelia!" Ethan's small voice called out after her.
Ophelia? Damian thought, his brow furrowing slightly as he searched his memory.
No... she must be someone else.
"If you need anything at all, an attendant is posted right outside the door," Ophelia added, stepping out into the hallway as Isabel followed close behind.
Outside in the alleyway two blocks down from the safehouse, the Scout adjusted his earpiece.
"Sir, Damian and the white-haired man just entered a private medical clinic," the scout reported softly into his transmitter.
Through the static, the distorted voice replied: "Excellent work. Pull back immediately."
"Understood," the scout murmured.
He took three cautious steps backward into the shadowed mouth of the alley—and slammed straight into a broad, solid chest.
The scout reacted instantly, vaulting backward with a suppressed gasp, his hand snapping to the holster at his hip.
Standing right behind him in the narrow alley was a man in black suit, the White-Haired Man. His coat fluttered in the freezing breeze, his face cast entirely in shadow against the harsh glare of the midday winter sun hanging behind his head.
"Leaving so soon?" the White-Haired Man said, his voice dropping like lead.
How? When the hell did he get behind me?! the scout panicked, pulling his tactical blade and lunging forward in a blinding thrust.
Inside the hallway outside the room, Ophelia sat quietly on a wooden bench, leaning her head against the wall.
Where is he? What could be taking him so long? she wondered, tapping her fingers lightly on her knee.
Heavy, deliberate footsteps echoed from the far end of the corridor. Ophelia looked up just as Isabel turned the corner.
"My Lady," Isabel announced with a crisp bow. "Your son has arrived."
Ophelia immediately stood up, her posture straightening.
Inside the room, Ethan was animatedly gesturing with his hands as Damian sat on the edge of the cot, listening intently with a exaggerated, dramatic expression of awe.
"...and then, Father, I met these crazy people, but I managed to slip past them!" Ethan beamed.
Damian gasped dramatically. "Oh, Ethan! Look at you—you're getting stronger every day!"
Ethan puffed out his chest, continuing his story. "And Father, I met two women—one bad, and one good. The bad woman wanted to kill everyone, but the good woman... she shared food with me!"
As Ethan rambled on, his sentence was suddenly cut short by a loud, violent rumble from his stomach.
Ah... I'm starving again, Ethan realized, his cheeks flushing pink.
Damian let out a warm laugh, patting his son's back. "Why don't we rest up and get something real to eat, okay?"
Ethan nodded enthusiastically. "I'll go tell the maid, Father! Stay right here!"
Before Damian could protest, Ethan bounded out of the room.
As he stepped into the main corridor, he paused. A few yards away, Ophelia was standing in front of a tall man, gently reaching up to cup his face and stroke his hair.
"I missed you, my dear son..." Ophelia whispered softly, her voice brimming with maternal warmth.
Ethan's eyes narrowed slightly as he noticed dark, wet crimson blood staining the knuckles of the young man's left hand.
Noticing Ethan standing by the doorway, Isabel stepped around the pair and walked toward him, kneeling down to eye level.
"Yes, Ethan? Do you need something?"
Ethan's gaze remained locked on Ophelia, who was still tenderly running her fingers through her son's thick, snow-white hair.
Isabel followed his eyes and offered a gentle, knowing smile. "My Lady treasures her children and grandchildren above everything else in this world."
Ethan gave a slow, quiet nod.
Majestic... just like his mother.
"We're hungry again," Ethan said simply.
Isabel nodded, standing up and clearing her throat respectfully. "My Lady?"
Ophelia paused, releasing her hold on her son, and turned around to face Isabel and Ethan. Because of her positioning, her body completely blocked Ethan's view of her son's face.
"Yes, Isabel?" Ophelia asked.
"Ethan and his father are requesting another meal," Isabel reported.
Ophelia smiled warmly. "Isabel, go get the car prepped. We'll eat out."
Isabel bowed. "Understood, My Lady," she said, before turning and briskly walking down the hall.
"Give us just a moment, Ethan," Ophelia added gently.
Ethan nodded and stepped back inside the room to update Damian.
Once the door clicked shut, Ophelia turned back to her white-haired son, studying the faint speckles of blood on his coat.
"Are you coming with us?" she asked softly.
The young man looked down at his mother, his expression unreadable. "Mother... what is your next move?"
Ophelia paused, looking toward the sealed door where Damian and Ethan were waiting, her eyes narrowed.
Would they be safe here on their own? She thought.