By sunrise, Kian was packed.
His watch glinted coldly in the morning light, ticking louder than time itself.
Talia stood barefoot in the doorway, Nova asleep behind her, and her arms folded against the ache in her chest.
"You're really going back," she said softly. He buttoned the last of his black shirt. "To end it. For good."
Talia stepped closer. "You think he'll just fall?"
"No," Kian said. "But I'll rip the ground out from under him. One secret at a time." She searched his face. "What if he sees it coming?"
Kian's lips curled. "Then I'll make him watch."
He kissed Nova on the forehead gently, reverently and whispered something Talia couldn't hear. Then he turned to her. "Keep her safe."
Talia reached up and touched his jaw. "Come back to us."
He pressed his forehead to hers, a breath trembling between them.
"I'll come back when there's nothing left of him."
And with that, he was gone.
New York was colder than he remembered. Colder than the winter air. Colder than the steel in his chest.
The moment he walked into the Donovan skyscraper, heads turned. Whispers followed him like ghosts.
The prodigal son had returned but not to kneel.
To conquer and to destroy.
Kian stepped into the boardroom like a god among insects. His father was already there, flanked by silent partners and cowardly smiles.
"Well," the elder Donovan said, steepling his fingers. "Back from your sabbatical?"
Kian smiled darkly. "Back with teeth."
Back in Montana, Talia watched the news with the sound off. one of Kian's shell companies had just filed for hostile takeover against his father's flagship holding.
A message.
The war had started. Nova sat on the floor drawing, the stuffed wolf toy clutched tight.
"I'm making a fire picture," she said. "It's Daddy burning the bad guys."
Talia smiled, but her heart wasn't in it because something outside the window had moved.
Just once.
Just barely but enough.
Her mother's instincts screamed. She stood slowly, eyes narrowing, and locked the back door. Then drew the curtains.
In New York, Kian bled secrets across the city. Each move was precision.
One account frozen.
One informant flipped.
One empire crumbling from the inside and still his father smiled.
"You think this wins your redemption?" he asked at the next meeting. "You're still just a broken boy with a gun."
Kian leaned forward, voice deadly. "And you're a dying king with no heirs left to protect him."
That night, Talia lay awake. She tried calling Kian. Voicemail.
She checked the windows again still nothing but as she passed the fireplace… A letter had been slid under the front door but there was no stamp, no name. Just a folded page with one line: "You should've stayed gone, little whore."
Talia's breath hitched. The page slipped from her fingers.
Nova still slept upstairs.
Unaware, unharmed, for now. But Talia's body went cold. This wasn't just about Kian anymore. They knew where she was and worse they were taunting her.
In New York, Kian stood on the rooftop of the Donovan building, phone in hand.
He dialed.
Straight to voicemail again. He tried Marcus still nothing. A coil of dread slid down his spine.
Something was wrong.
Back in Montana, Talia held the shotgun in one hand, the letter in the other. She stood in front of Nova's door like a shield. Her voice was steel now.
"If you come for her again…"
She whispered it into the darkness.
"I'll be the last thing you ever see."