KISS'S POV
I didn't remember how I got home.
Only that the door closed behind me—and everything I had been holding together finally shattered.
The silence hit first.
Then the memories.
Their faces.
His voice.
That single word—
Mom.
I slid down the wall slowly until I was sitting on the cold marble floor, knees pulled to my chest.
My breath came out broken.
"I touched them," I whispered to the empty room.
"I touched my children…"
My hands trembled as I stared at them, as if they still carried warmth.
"I shouldn't have gone," I choked. "I shouldn't have—"
A sob ripped out of me before I could stop it.
"They're so big," I cried. "They don't need me anymore."
But the lie tasted bitter.
"Yes, they do," I whispered fiercely. "They still do."
I pressed my fist to my mouth, biting down hard to silence myself.
Adrian's eyes flashed through my mind.
The shock.
The pain.
The way his voice broke when he said my name.
"I didn't want you to see me like that," I murmured.
"I didn't want to be your ghost."
I dragged myself to my feet, walking blindly into the living room.
"I'll come back," I said aloud, voice steadier now.
"I swear I will."
But first—
First, someone had to pay.
ADRIAN'S POV
The room smelled like lavender and baby powder.
I sat on the floor of the nursery, back against the bed, one child in each arm.
I hadn't moved since she left.
"She was here," I whispered, staring into nothing.
"She came back… and I couldn't stop her."
My daughter shifted against my chest, her tiny hand fisting my shirt.
"Daddy…" she murmured sleepily.
My throat closed.
"I'm here," I whispered, kissing her hair. "Daddy's here."
My son pressed closer, warm and solid.
I wrapped my arms tighter around them, finally letting the tears fall—silent, heavy, unstoppable.
"I failed you," I murmured.
"I should've protected her better."
My daughter stirred again, pressing her cheek to my chest as if she could feel the storm inside me.
She sighed softly and settled there.
And that broke me completely.
I bowed my head.
"I won't lose her again," I vowed quietly.
"Not you. Not your mother."
I reached for my phone with shaking fingers.
"Oscar," I said the moment the call connected. "Wake Isaac."
A pause. "Sir?"
"She came back," I said hoarsely. "Kiss was here."
Silence.
Then Isaac's voice cut in sharply. "Where is she?"
"Gone," I replied. "But this ends now."
I straightened slowly, fire replacing grief.
"Find Ashley. Find Chris," I said coldly.
"I want everything. Every move. Every shadow."
Isaac exhaled slowly. "Adrian… are you sure?"
I looked down at my children.
"I'm done being patient," I said.
"It's time to hunt."
What I didn't know—
Was that Ashley was already hunted.
KISS'S POV
The basement was quiet.
Too quiet.
The kind of quiet that listened back.
I descended the steps slowly, wine glass in hand, heels echoing softly against concrete.
Ashley was tied to the chair.
Barely conscious.
Her head lolled weakly to the side, hair matted, lips cracked.
She looked nothing like the woman who once believed she could take my life.
I stopped in front of her.
Sipped my wine.
"Wake her up," I said calmly.
One of my men hesitated. "Madam—"
"I said wake her up."
Water splashed against her face.
She gasped violently, coughing, eyes snapping open in terror.
"No… no, please—" she croaked.
I crouched in front of her, meeting her gaze.
"Do you know," I asked softly, "what hurts the most?"
She shook her head frantically, tears streaming.
"Not the pain," I continued.
"Not the fear."
I tilted my head.
"It's knowing you lost."
Her breathing became erratic.
"I didn't kill them," she sobbed. "I swear—I didn't—"
I smiled faintly.
"You ordered it," I corrected.
"You wanted my children dead."
Her eyes widened in horror.
"I didn't think they'd survive," she whispered. "I didn't think you would either."
I stood.
"Bring the bucket."
Her scream started before anything even touched her.
"Please! Kiss, please—!"
I raised a finger.
"Salt," I said calmly. "And water."
She shook violently against the restraints.
"You loved him," I said quietly.
"And because you couldn't have him—you tried to erase me."
I took another sip of wine as my men moved.
The first splash hit her skin.
She screamed—raw, broken, animal.
I didn't flinch.
"Every scream," I said evenly, "is a reminder."
Another splash.
"I survived," I continued.
"My children survived."
Her voice cracked. "I'm sorry—!"
I leaned closer, my smile cold and precise.
"And this," I whispered, "is mercy."
Her screams echoed off the walls.
I turned away, walking back up the stairs without looking back.
"Keep her alive," I instructed calmly.
"I'm not finished yet."
As I reached the door, I paused.
"Oh," I added without turning,
"Let her hear the children laughing upstairs."
The door closed behind me.
And for the first time that night—
I felt nothing at all.