Masuk
LEANDER POV
"Three hours ago, I accepted an award for innovation. Now I was innovating ways to survive a kidnapping."
Conrad had been in the front row, applauding louder than anyone. He'd even mouthed “Proud of you, brother" across the crowd. I'd almost believed him, almost forgotten that he'd been asking about succession protocols for months, always phrased as 'just curious' or 'planning for Elena's sake.'Now I was bleeding out in the back of a van, hands zip-tied behind my back, my tuxedo soaked with blood and rain.
My consciousness returned in jagged pieces.
The pain came first, a sharp, burning sensation in my stomach where the blade went in. Then I felt the cold metal floor against my face and tasted blood. I forced my eyes open.
It was dark inside, but streetlights flickered past the windows as we moved. Two men sat on the bench across from me. One was massive with a scarred face, gaps where teeth should be.
The younger one looked about twenty-five and couldn't stop fidgeting. He had a tactical knife and was busy wiping my blood off the blade with a rag.The rag was already soaked through. The dripping matched my heartbeat, both getting slower.I stayed still, watching them, trying to figure out my next move.
"I told you he'd wake up," the scarred one said, grinning to reveal those missing teeth. "He's a tough bastard."
"Conrad said to keep him alive until we reached the cliffs," the younger one replied nervously. "Make sure he's conscious when he goes over."
Conrad.
The name felt like another stab wound. Conrad Vladmoss was my brother-in-law. He'd married my sister Elena five years ago in a ceremony that cost more than most people earn in a lifetime. Charming, ambitious, always with that politician smile that never quite reached his eyes. Now he was willing to betray his own family for the Voss Empire.
I should have seen this coming. Conrad had circled the company like a shark for years, waiting for his chance. But as long as I breathed, the company stayed out of reach. The board remained loyal. The shareholders trusted me. Even my cold father, Richard Voss, respected my sharp business mind.
So Conrad found another way: make me disappear, call it an accident, comfort his grieving sister-wife while taking over the empire.
Clever, I admitted silently.
"How much is he paying you?" I finally spoke, though my voice sounded rough and broken. Every word sent fresh pain through my gut. "I'll triple it."
Gap-Tooth laughed, a wet, ugly sound. "Hear that, Marcus? He thinks this is about money."
"This isn't about money, Mr. Voss," Marcus said, still wiping the knife with careful precision.
"This is personal. Family business. I'm sure a man like you understands."
I understood perfectly. I'd have done the same in his position. That's what made it so fucking predictable.
I hadn't built my career on feelings or mercy. I crushed my rivals and destroyed anyone who got in my way. Business magazines referred to me as "The Ice King." They meant it as an insult, but I saw it as a badge of honor.
Right now, though, I was losing.
While Gap-Tooth talked about the cliffs and ocean currents, I worked my fingers behind my back, testing the zip ties. They were tight and professional, but not impossible to break, not if you knew where to pull.
My father's voice echoed in my memory: "Always have a contingency and an edge others don't know about."
I'd carried that advice for years. A hidden advantage could mean the difference between life and death.
"We're ten minutes away," the driver called from the front. "Maybe fifteen with this rain."
The storm hammered the van's roof like artillery fire. Through the back windows, I saw the coastal road, cliffs dropping into the black ocean on one side, dense forest on the other.
I needed to buy time to keep them talking.
"Conrad is smarter than I thought," I said, keeping my tone casual, as if we were discussing sales figures rather than my murder. "I underestimated him. I won't make that mistake again."
"You won't get the chance," Marcus pointed out.
"True." I kept working the blade against the zip tie. It was an awkward angle, but I felt the plastic start to fray. "Tell me, did he hire you before or after the gala? I'm curious about the timeline."
"Before," Gap-Tooth said, clearly bragging. "Two weeks of planning. We waited until you left the hotel and grabbed you in the parking garage, right under all those fancy security cameras Conrad made sure were broken tonight."
The tie snapped. I kept my hands positioned behind my back, muscles screaming at me to move, but I forced myself to wait for the right moment.
The van hit a pothole, and everyone lurched.
I lunged.
I drove the blade deep into Gap-Tooth's thigh, aiming right for the femoral artery. I felt the resistance give way, and blood started hitting the metal floor in heavy pulses. He let out a high scream, sounding more like a child than a grown man.
Marcus jumped in, but I was faster, or desperate enough that it didn't matter. The fight turned brutal.The van swerved wildly as my elbow connected with the driver's face through the partition. I heard cartilage crack.
He was younger and quicker, pulling his knife as the van swerved wildly."Just kill him!" Gap-Tooth yelled, trying to stop the bleeding.
I blocked Marcus's first strike, but the second one found its mark. The blade sank into my gut just under the ribs.
Everything went white for a second. I looked down at the handle still in Marcus's hand.
"You should have stayed down," Marcus hissed.
I didn't listen. I grabbed his wrist with both hands and yanked the knife away. His scream didn't sound human.
I was past calculating survival odds or strategy now. Pure Alpha rage took over, a wounded animal backed into a corner, willing to take everyone down with me.
The van lurched violently as the driver struggled with a broken nose. I looked at the rear doors; they were rattling, not fully latched.
One last gamble.
I threw myself backward with everything I had left.
My shoulders slammed against the doors. For a split second, they held. The van hit a pothole. The doors rattled. And I realized, they hadn't locked them. Too confident I'd be dead before I could fight back. Amateurs. Then they burst open.
Wind and rain swirled around me as I balanced on the edge, one hand pressed against the deep wound. Marcus gripped my ankle like iron, trying to pull me back.
Below lay nothing but dark forest. The drop would kill me just as fast as the knife.
I looked back and met the young man's eyes.
"Tell Conrad he failed."
Then I kicked free and let myself fall backward into the night.
Little Shen POV"What I Know"I am eight years old, which is old enough to know a lot of things.I know my name is Shen Voss-Mirei. My teacher asked me once which name was real and I said both, obviously. She nodded like I told her something surprising. I do not know why it was surprising.I know Aria is three, which means she still thinks worms are interesting enough to carry in her pocket. She dropped one on Papa's suit jacket last spring. Papa's face went through six different expressions before he carried her inside to change. I counted. It was six.I know my father is Leander Voss, who runs a large company. My friend Jin asked me once if my dad was the Leander Voss. I said yes, and he said wow. I told him Papa makes good pancakes on Saturdays. Jin thought about this and said that was a more useful thing to know than anything on the internet. I agreed.I know my other father is Avelin Mirei, whom I call Dada. He has warm eyes and quiet hands, and he always knows when something is
Leander POV"Year Two"A letter found folded inside the journal, dated fourteen months after Leander's disappearance. Given to Leander by Avelin the morning after the memory returned.Shen,I do not know why I am writing this. You are not going to read it. I know that now in a way I didn't let myself know for a long time, that you are not coming back to this address, that if you are alive somewhere, you are not looking for us, and that the Shen Ross who married me on the beach is not the person who existed before I found him bleeding on the road.I know all of that. I am writing this anyway.Our son is fourteen months old. He has your eyes, I know I have thought about this before, but they keep being your eyes every time I look at him, stubbornly yours. He has started walking, or trying to. He walks the way you fixed things: with complete certainty that he is doing it correctly, right up until the moment he falls over, and then he gets up and tries again without any drama about the fa
Elias POVI asked him to dinner on a Tuesday in November, which I mention because it took me four months to get there and I want the timeline acknowledged.The four months were for practical reasons. Leander and Avelin were in the middle of the most complicated reunion in recent romantic history, and inserting my own situation into that orbit seemed both poor timing and mildly absurd. Also, Renlo is Avelin's best friend, and the structural symmetry of both of us pursuing our respective people simultaneously felt too neat. Too convenient. Like something that happens in a book rather than in life.Then again, Leander developed amnesia, fell in love with the same man twice, and named his son after himself by accident. Perhaps I should lower my standards for narrative plausibility.The certainty had arrived early, somewhere between the gala and the second occasion I found myself reconsidering an opinion because Renlo made a point I could not argue with. It arrived quietly, less like a rev
Renlo POVIt took three months before I admitted to myself that I looked forward to seeing Elias Thorn.This was annoying for several reasons, primarily because Elias was an Alpha who operated with the quiet assumption that every room he entered belonged to him. It should have irritated me, and did, technically, but it had somehow stopped feeling like a problem. He was also, frustratingly, interesting. He was the kind of person who asks questions that signal actual listening rather than performed interest, and who says things that take twenty minutes to fully unpack after the conversation ends.He also made very good coffee. I mention this because it matters.We fell into a pattern without either of us naming it. When Leander visited Avelin and Baby Shen, which became every weekend, then several evenings a week, then eventually most of the time, Elias was often present in an adjacent capacity. When I visited Avelin, which was always, because that was simply what we did, we ended up in
Elias POVThe first time I met Renlo Caelisi, I did not like him.This was not unusual. I do not like most people on first meeting. It saves time to withhold approval until someone earns it. Leander built an empire on the same principle, which is why we have been friends for fifteen years without either of us becoming insufferable.But Renlo Caelisi was a specific kind of irritating.He was tall, unreasonably tall for an Omega, taller than most Alphas in the room, which he seemed both aware of and deliberately unimpressed by. He had the kind of face that suggested he had never been uncertain about anything in his life, which I knew immediately was a projection. Nobody goes through life that composed without having practiced it. He wore a charcoal jacket that fit too well for someone who claimed to work in marketing at a mid-sized firm, and he looked at me across Avelin's small living room like I was a problem he had already categorized and filed under manageable.I found this offensiv
Avelin POVThe morning starts the way all our mornings start now.Loud.Shen is eight years old and possesses his father's eyes, alongside Leander's knack for demanding things with intense specificity. He currently wants pancakes. Specifically, he wants Leander to mix the batter because Papa makes them the right shape, which Leander maintains is a standard circle and Shen maintains is a structural failure. This particular debate has been running for six months with no resolution in sight.I lean against the kitchen door frame with my mug, watching Leander stand at the stove in last night's wrinkled cotton shirt with a smudge of flour on his collar. He is locked in a fierce geometric argument with an eight-year-old. Under my collar, the bond mark pulses, a slow, warm current against my skin.Aria sits on the edge of the counter, swinging her bare feet. She is three. She arrived the way second children do, without a formal announcement from the universe, just quietly inevitable. She has
Leander POVThe car engine cut out in front of the brick apartment building.Two years ago, Avelin hauled three suitcases up these steps, holding a toddler who barely reached his knee. This was the exact door where I knocked as a stranger, sat on a rug, and let a small boy show me plastic toys unti
Avelin POVThe car crested the ridge, and the sharp scent of salt water hit the open windows. Shen pressed his nose against the pane, leaving a smear of grease on the glass. "Home," he muttered. He did not mean the narrow city flat or Madam Lia’s high-ceilinged estate. He meant this patch of gravel
Avelin POVElias came to our apartment on a Thursday evening. He was holding a paper bag from the bakery on Mercer Street. Shen had been waiting by the door since five. He had his face pressed against the glass until he saw Elias, the head of the department, step out of the elevator. It was quite a
Avelin POVWe did not plan to stay up all night. That is what happened. We had a lot to talk about. Important conversations like this one just happen when you stop trying to control them and let them go where they need to. We moved from the kitchen table to the couch at some point. We started with



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