Evelyn cradled Cassian in her arms, gently rocking him as his breathing evened out, his small body finally succumbing to exhaustion. She glanced toward the other bed, where Elara lay curled up, her tiny frame even more fragile than her brother's.

She looked smaller than Cassian, almost too small for a three-year-old. The thought made Evelyn's heart squeeze.

Carefully, she lowered Cassian onto the bed beside his sister, pulling the blanket over them to keep them warm. Even in sleep, Cassian instinctively reached out for Elara, his little fingers brushing against her hand as though making sure she was still there.

Evelyn sighed softly, brushing stray curls away from Elara's face before settling into the chair beside their bed.

As soon as she sat, Cassian's small hand latched onto hers.

Evelyn's lips parted slightly, surprised by the silent plea. Even in sleep, he refused to let go.

A soft chuckle escaped her lips. "Alright, little one," she murmured.

She let her fingers gently graze both Cassian's and Elara's hands, as if silently reassuring them that she was there. That they were safe.

The weight of the day finally caught up to her, exhaustion pressing against her body like a heavy blanket. She allowed her eyes to drift shut, her breathing steadying as sleep finally claimed her.

Meanwhile, in the dark underground world of Ronan Vale, chaos raged.

The air was thick with the scent of blood and sweat, the dim lighting casting eerie shadows over the concrete walls. At the center of the room, a man in his early thirties knelt on the floor, his wrists bound in chains. His face was bruised, his clothes torn, but he remained eerily silent.

Ronan stepped forward, his piercing gaze locked onto the man before him.

Behind him, Silas Crowe—his ever-silent right-hand man—spoke first.

"We found this guy, sir. He was the last person to see your sister-in-law before she took the children. He was seen driving them away."

Ronan's jaw clenched. "And?"

Silas exchanged a glance with Cormac Hayes, the brute of the group.

Cormac exhaled sharply before stepping closer. "We tracked him down. He was hiding in China, trying to slip under the radar. But there's no trace of your sister-in-law. No movement. No sign of the children. Just him." He jerked his chin toward the chained man. "And he refuses to talk."

Ronan's eyes darkened.

Cormac narrowed his gaze. "Something's off, though. He has no fear. No guilt. It's like... he doesn't care about the kids at all."

That was all Ronan needed to hear.

His blood boiled.

Loosening his tie, he rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white dress shirt, revealing the veins snaking down his forearms. The dim light caught the sheen of sweat on his skin as he picked up a bat lying on the floor.

He let out a slow, amused exhale, his lips curling into a sinister smirk.

"So," Ronan mused, stepping closer. "You've brought the devil to your doorstep."

The man on the floor barely lifted his gaze before—

CRACK.

Ronan swung the bat mercilessly, the force sending a sickening sound through the room. The man groaned, his body convulsing under the blow.

"I—wait! Stop!" he gasped, blood trickling from his mouth. "I'll talk—I'll talk!"

Ronan twirled the bat in his hand, his expression cold. "Then speak."

The man chuckled weakly, his bloodstained teeth visible as he let out a ragged laugh. His gaze flickered up to Ronan, a glint of something twisted in his eyes.

"Do you really think she loved him?" he rasped, still laughing despite the pain. "Your brother—do you think she married him for love?"

Ronan's grip on the bat tightened.

"She married him because of you," the man continued, his voice dripping with mockery. "Those kids—they were nothing but a nuisance to her. You're so blind, Ronan. You'll never find them. Never."

His laughter echoed through the room.

Something snapped inside Ronan.

Without hesitation, he grabbed the machete resting against the table.

The room fell into a thick, suffocating silence as the blade slashed through flesh.

A sickening splatter of blood painted the walls, droplets dotting Ronan's exposed skin and the pristine fabric of his shirt. His breathing was steady, his expression eerily calm, even as the man's lifeless body collapsed at his feet.

Silas and Cormac stood back, watching with unreadable expressions.

Ronan exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. The veins on his forehead pulsed, his fury not yet satisfied.

He turned to Silas.

"Find her." His voice was cold, controlled. Dangerous. "I don't care what it takes. Find her. And bring me my niece and nephew."

His jaw clenched as he wiped a drop of blood from his cheek.

"I want them alive."