로그인The cabin was small and cold.A single room with rough wooden walls, a stone fireplace, and a window overlooking the valley. A bed in the corner. A table in the center. A chair by the fire.Adrian sat in the chair, the gun resting on his knee. He didn't point it at Drake. He didn't need to. The threat was implicit—a promise waiting to be kept.Drake stood by the door, his hands at his sides, his grey eyes fixed on his brother.They looked alike. The same jaw. The same height. The same cold, grey eyes.But Adrian's eyes were different. They were hollow. The eyes of a man who had been broken so many times that he had forgotten what it felt like to be whole."Sit down," Adrian said.Drake didn't move."I'm not here to chat," he said. "I'm here to end this."Adrian smiled—a thin, cold smile."End it," he repeated. "How? By killing me? By putting a bullet in my head like you did to so many others?""I never killed you," Drake said. "I never touched you. I didn't even know you existed.""Ex
The warehouse was on the edge of the city, in a forgotten industrial district where the streets were empty and the lights were broken. It was the kind of place where bodies were buried and secrets were kept. Drake had chosen it deliberately.He parked the car and sat for a moment, staring at the rusted metal doors.Ten years, he thought. Ten years since I walked into a place like this.He had promised himself he would never come back. He had promised Mason. He had promised his children—not in words, but in the life he had built. The garden. The shop. The laughter.But promises were fragile things. And Adrian was a threat that couldn't be handled with lawyers and courtrooms.Drake got out of the car.He walked to the doors.He pushed them open.---The warehouse was dimly lit, the air thick with dust and the smell of old oil. A single overhead lamp cast a pool of yellow light in the center of the floor.Three men stood in the shadows.Drake recognized them immediately. Viktor—a mountai
Drake drove home in silence.Mariah sat beside him, her eyes on the road, her jaw tight. She didn't ask questions. She didn't push. She just waited.Drake was grateful for that.His mind was a storm. Adrian's words echoed in his skull, over and over, like a broken record.I want your pain. I want you to lose what I lost.They're already involved.I know everything.He gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.He had spent ten years building a life. A good life. A garden. A family. A home. And now, a stranger—a brother—was threatening to tear it all apart.Not because of something Drake had done to him.But because of something Drake had done to his mother.Elena Voss.The woman in the basement. The woman he had chained to a chair. The woman he had starved and questioned and terrorized.He had told himself she deserved it. She was a trafficker. A monster. She had sold children to the highest bidder. She had ruined lives.But he had never stopped to think about the chi
Mason called the second the bell chimed behind Adrian.His hands were shaking. His heart was pounding so hard he could barely breathe."Drake," he said the moment the line connected. "Drake, you need to come to the shop. Now."There was a pause—a beat of silence that stretched too long."What happened?" Drake's voice was sharp. Alert. Afraid."A man came in," Mason said. "He said his name was Adrian. He said he was your brother."Another pause. Longer this time."I'm on my way."The line went dead.---Drake arrived in twelve minutes.He burst through the door of The Root, his grey eyes wild, his chest heaving. He scanned the shop—the ferns, the succulents, the empty counter."Where is he?" he demanded."Gone." Mason walked out from behind the counter. "He left right after I called you."Drake ran a hand through his hair. "What did he look like? What did he say? Did he threaten you?""No." Mason reached out, taking Drake's hands. "He didn't threaten me. He just—he just stood there. He
Drake didn't sleep that night.He lay in bed beside Mason, listening to his husband's slow, even breathing, the letter burning a hole in the drawer of his nightstand. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the words.I know who you are. And I know what you did.He had done a lot of things. He had hurt people. He had ruined lives. He had been a monster in a suit, and he had worn that suit for years.But that was a decade ago. He had paid for his sins. He had changed. He had built a life—a good life—out of the wreckage.And yet, the letter made him feel like he was twenty-five again. Like the monster was still alive. Like the past was a hungry thing that had simply been waiting for the right moment to swallow him whole.At 4 AM, he gave up on sleep.He slipped out of bed, pulled on a sweatshirt, and walked to his study. He locked the door behind him. He pulled the letter from his pocket and laid it flat on the desk.He read it again.I know who you are. And I know what you did.The handw
The drive home took four hours.Drake kept his eyes on the road, his hands steady on the wheel, his mind a thousand miles away. The trees blurred past the windows. The sky shifted from grey to gold as the afternoon sun began its slow descent. No one spoke. No one needed to.In the back seat, Elara was asleep. She had fallen asleep within minutes of leaving the courthouse, her small body curled against Leo's side, her head resting on his shoulder. Leo hadn't moved an inch. He just sat there, his grey eyes fixed on the window, his hand resting protectively on his sister's hair.Silas was in his car seat, wide awake, his grey eyes—too knowing—watching the world pass by. He hadn't spoken since they left the city. He rarely spoke at all. But his silence was different now. It was not the silence of a child who had nothing to say. It was the silence of a child who had seen too much.Mason sat in the passenger seat, his hand resting on Drake's knee. He didn't speak either. He just watched the







