Chapter 8

Phayu's POV

Nothing was supposed to turn out like this.

Nothing was supposed to touch my Kaia.

I was at work—buried neck-deep in plans, negotiations—when that familiar pang hit. That low ache in my chest that only shows up when I've been away from her too long. She wasn't at school today. She was supposed to be with me.

With Isha.

Rain and I trusted her. Kaia loves her. I thought... I thought Isha loved Kaia too.

She said she was taking her for ice cream. It's not the first time. I didn't blink. Didn't hesitate.

But thirty minutes passed. Then forty. I called—not out of panic, not yet. Just routine. Isha had left her desk too long anyway.

Her number was unreachable.

I frowned, called again. Nothing.

I checked security—no pings, no alerts. But that's because she was with me. She wasn't supposed to need them today.

And Rain had begged me not to tag her.

"She's five, Phi," he said. "She's not cattle."

I listened. I fucking listened.

And now Win's back. Face grim, jaw set. And the moment I see him I know.

"They never made it to the ice cream shop," he says.

And the world dropped out from under me.

Rain hasn't looked at me once.

Not since the words left my mouth and shattered whatever was left of the air between us.

Not since he yelled at me out of sheer panic, anger and blame

He's stopped crying. That scared, trembling panic has dulled into something worse—quiet. Detached. He's just been staring at the wall of street cam footage with that dead expression on his face, like if he looks hard enough, she'll appear. Like she'll blink back into existence if he doesn't dare breathe wrong.

And then the door bursts open.

P'Arm and P'Porsche.

Sky and Pai.

Rain doesn't flinch.

P'Arm takes one look at my face—just one—and he stumbles like he's been hit, only catching himself on P'Porsche's arm. Sky goes straight to Rain, kneeling by his side, whispering something only he can hear. Pai steps up to me, already reaching into his blazer for a cigarette he won't light indoors. His hand shakes.

And then Saifah and Win return.

Rain stands immediately.

His voice is clear. Cold. "Update?"

They don't speak. Just shake their heads.

Rain turns to me then, finally. Not to cry, not to fall apart.

He says, quiet but curt, "Kaia's teacher. Kora. Pick her up for me."

And I do.

I get my phone.

Because Rain only uses that voice when he's planning to burn the world down.

Rain's POV

The room is all glass and steel and dark screens; people moving, voices low, but in my head there's nothing but a high-pitched whine.

Pain—pain like I have never felt before—sits in my chest like a blade, twisting. The panic burned itself out an hour ago, the tears dried up somewhere between the third call and the fourth dead end.

What's left is this ache. A hollowed-out, salt-stung wound where our daughter should be.

My papa comes to my side, his arms folding around me. I don't move. I can't. I just stand there, stiff, his perfume familiar but almost alien against my skin. Sky had whispered to me earlier, "We'll find her." I didn't answer then and I don't answer now.

It feels like drowning, like my body is upright but the world is deep water and I'm sinking under the weight of it.

My dad moves closer, his hand on my shoulder, murmuring something soft. I nod, because nodding is easier than words.

I don't even look at Phi. I can feel him across the room—a force, a storm held together by a thread—but I can't bring myself to meet his eyes. She was supposed to be safe here. With him.

What is the use of all our money, our connections, our power, if our daughter can vanish into thin air? If I can stand in the middle of our fortress and feel her absence like a knife through my ribs?

I don't even know how I'm moving.

My body feels like glass. One wrong breath and I'll shatter.

But I can't stop. I can't think. I can't feel—not until we find her. Not until I hold her in my arms again and she buries her face in my chest and tells me, "Papa, I missed you."

The control room fades behind me. My papa. Sky. Pai. All of them. I don't say a word. I don't spare a glance. I just walk, numb and steady, until I push open the door to Phi's office.

And there it is.

Her little backpack.

Small. Pink. The one with the glittery star she insisted on because it matched the clip in her hair. It's sitting on the couch like she might walk in at any second, bouncing with laughter, asking for a snack and a cartoon.

I walk to it slowly. My fingers tremble as I reach out and unzip it.

The scent hits me first.

Her scent.

Sweet. Baby lotion and strawberry shampoo.

Inside—her little sketchpad, half-filled with doodles. A tiny container of rice crackers. Her water bottle with the peeling unicorn sticker. The tissue pack I packed this morning.

And her favourite toy—her duck plushie with the floppy wing.

I touch it, and the dam breaks.

I crumble onto the couch, gripping the toy to my chest as a sound I don't recognize tears out of my throat. It's not just crying. It's not just grief.

It's devastation. It's every nightmare I've ever had coming true.

She was just here. Just this morning, her arms were around my neck and she kissed my cheek and told me, "You're the best Papa in the whole world."And I let her go.

My sobs shake the room.

The door opens. I hear his steps before I see him. Then Phi is beside me, dropping to his knees, one arm coming around me before I even look up.

He's still wearing the same clothes from this morning, but now they're wrinkled and rumpled, hair a mess, eyes hollow but he holds me like he's the only anchor I've got.

"I'm sorry," I choke out between gasps. "Phi—I'm so sorry—I should have—I should've taken her myself—I should've—"

"No," he whispers fiercely. "No, baby. Don't do that. This isn't you. This isn't your fault. I'm the one who brought her here. She was with me."

I'm still crying. Shaking. Rocking with her duck clutched to my chest.

"I—I saw her bag, and I just—" my voice breaks again. "I can't—breathe, Phi—how do I—how do I—what if—"

"Don't," he says. His voice cracks too, thick with unshed tears. "Don't go there, Rain. We're going to get her back. I swear it. I swear it on my fucking soul."

I fall into him then, burying my face into his neck as his arms close around me like steel. He kisses my temple, again and again, whispering over and over like a prayer...

"She's coming home. She's coming home. She's coming home."

And I believe him.

Because I have to.

Because if I stop, even for one second—I'll never be able to breathe again.

...

I'm still curled in his arms when the guilt starts to crush me from the inside out.

It starts small. A whisper in my chest. You could've stopped this.Then it gets louder. Heavier. Until it's not just pain anymore, it's shame. Regret. Self-hatred.

I pull back, just enough to see his face.

And it's the worst part.

He looks wrecked, but calm. Steady. Like he's holding himself together just for me. For us. Like he won't allow himself to feel it yet, because he knows if he breaks, I will too.

And that makes it worse.

"I'm sorry," I breathe.

He frowns. "Baby—"

"No—Phi—listen to me." I grab his hand, both of mine wrapping around it like it's the only thing tethering me to the ground. "I'm sorry I blamed you. I'm sorry I snapped. I didn't mean it. I know you are always trying to protect her. And I—" my voice catches, "I didn't listen to you about the tracker."

"Rain—"

"I should have," I say, my voice breaking open. "I should have listened. You were right. You were always right. But I didn't want her to feel caged, and now she's gone, and—"

"Stop." He cups my face, firm but not harsh. "This is not your fault."

Tears spill again. "Just—just get her back for me. Phi, please. I don't care how. I don't care what you do. Just bring her back. I need her back."

He holds me tighter. Doesn't say anything. I keep going, can't stop. The thoughts are coming too fast now, too sharp to keep buried.

"She doesn't like being away from us too long," I whisper, and then I start to shake. "What if she gets hungry, Phi? What if they don't feed her? What if she's scared?"

His jaw clenches. His grip on me tightens.

"She's a brave girl, I know she is, but she's five, Phi—she's just five, what if she cries?" My voice cracks open again, wild and cracked and hopeless. "What if she cries and there's no one to hold her?"

"Rain—"

"What if she thinks we won't come for her?" I sob. "What if she thinks we forgot her? What if we don't get to her in time?"

I'm fully falling apart now, shaking in his arms. I don't care who sees. I don't care how pathetic I look.

I need him to fix this. I need our daughter back.

Phi pulls me in so hard I feel like he's trying to fuse our bones together.

"Stop," he whispers, hoarse and guttural. "Stop saying 'if'. There's no 'if'. We will get her back. I swear to you, Rain, on my life—I will burn the fucking world if I have to. I'll find her. I'll bring her home."

He's shaking now too. And I know he means it.

I press my forehead to his, voice a broken whisper. "Please... she's just a baby, Phi."

His hand slips into mine. "She's our baby. And no one, no one, touches what's ours."

Phayu's POV

The door creaks open again, and this time it's Saifah and Win. They move fast, serious. But as soon as I see their faces—those tight jaws, the flicker of frustration in Win's eyes—I know.

No news.

They both shake their heads, and Rain's already rising from the couch like he's been lit on fire.

"We got to the school," Win says, jaw tight. "They said Kora took the rest of the day off sick."

Rain's whole body goes still.

"Sick?" His voice is cracked, high, disbelieving.

Win nods.

"Sick?" Rain says again, louder now. "Phi—I saw her this morning. Not even up to an hour ago. She wasn't sick. She was fine, Phi. I swear to you, I swear on everything, she was fine."

He's pacing now, fists clenched, eyes wild.

"Did that bitch take my daughter?" he demands. "What's the connection between her and Isha? Why would she take Kaia? Why would she—why would she—"

He's spiraling. Understandably. So I cut in.

^

He's already ahead of me, sitting at the console, iPad out, fingers flying across the screen.

"Check Isha's file. Check Kora's. Background. New affiliations. Family, debts, records. I want everything. Cross-check their histories with any sector players we've marked in the last six months."

We keep tabs. On everyone. Mafia employees. Legitimate ones. Doesn't matter. We track affiliations, political shifts, marriages, even distant cousins if they're flagged by Interpol or the CID. Nothing's too small. One missed connection could cost us everything.

The silence stretches thin until Saifah freezes.

His face pales.

I'm on him in two strides.

"What?" My voice cuts low, cold. "What is it, Fah?"

He doesn't speak at first. Just turns the screen to me, and my stomach clenches.

"No direct connection yet," he says carefully. "No documented calls, no financial ties, no mutual social circles—but..."

He points to something I know too well.

A name.

Isha's younger brother.

And underneath—Kora's ex-husband.

I close my eyes for half a second, fury licking up my spine like a match has been lit.

Rain is behind me now. "What does that mean? Phi?"

I turn, eyes dark.

"It means this isn't random. There are no coincidences in our world. Not two people close to Kaia going rogue on the same day. Not without a reason."

I clench my jaw.

"And now we have it."

Saifah looks up. "You want us to go to his last known address?"

"No," I say. "Not yet. We'll do it my way. Quiet. Fast."

Rain's hands are shaking again, but he steps closer, calmer now that I'm calm. Or maybe just matching my rage in a different form.

"You think she's with him?" he asks.

"I think Kaia's being used to get something. Money. Power. Leverage. Doesn't matter." I glance at the screen again, my vision narrowing. "But they made one mistake."

"They took my daughter."

I push away from the table.

"Win. Get the team ready. Every lieutenant, every mole. I want all known associates tagged and tracked. I want cameras pulled from every route within twenty kilometers of that ice cream shop. And I want Kora and Isha's full history in my inbox in the next fifteen minutes."

Rain's still staring at me. Broken. Burning.

I walk back to him, pull him close by the back of the neck, touch our foreheads together.

"We're getting her back, baby."

His breath hitches.

"We will."

He closes his eyes and leans into me.

And I promise myself again:

Whoever did this is going to bleed.

+++

The warehouse is quiet but humming with menace.

Isha's brother is bound to the chair in the middle, ankles tied, wrists behind his back, blood already crusting at the corner of his mouth.

He must've tried to fight when they dragged him here. Now he's sobbing, face blotchy and eyes darting wildly around the space like he's just now realizing what it means to cross someone like me.

Rain steps in beside me, dressed in an immaculately pressed white. To anyone else, he looks like a fallen angel—composed, silent, aloof.

But I know that look in his eyes.

That keen, brittle stillness. The quiet just before a hurricane lays waste to everything in its path. His hands are folded in front of him, fingers curling tight and loose again, like he's keeping score in his head.

I slide my gloves on slowly, the latex snapping against my wrists. My sleeves are already rolled. The clock on the wall reads 13:03. Time enough to get what I need.

I crouch in front of the bastard. He flinches.

I don't speak at first.

Then, in a low voice: "Where's my daughter?"

He blinks at me, confusion knitted tight into his forehead.

I tilt my head, my tone deceptively gentle. "Where's your sister?"

He's trembling now.

"Where's your ex-wife?"

Nothing but gasping breaths. A stupid shake of the head.

Rain speaks before I do. Calm. Even. "Tell the truth now. Because we're only going to ask nicely once."

Isha's brother stammers. "I-I don't know where she is— I haven't seen her—"

My fist connects with his cheek before he finishes. A clean hit. I stand again, flexing my knuckles.

"Don't lie to me," I say flatly.

"I swear!" he sobs. "I don't—she didn't tell me anything—"

I take a step back and Rain steps forward, looking like sin in pressed ivory. He leans down, brushes the man's sweat-slick hair back from his forehead like he's soothing a fever.

"You should be more scared of me than him," Rain says, voice low and velvet-soft. "He might leave a piece of you to bury. I won't."

The man starts crying harder.

"You think this is about your sister?" I murmur. "You think she just... walked away with my daughter without help? You think she did that without insurance? Without a plan?"

I crouch again. Pull my knife from the holster at my hip.

"You're going to remember everything. Every call. Every message. Every meeting. Because if I have to start guessing—"

I press the flat of the blade against his cheek. Watch the tear streaks mix with piss and sweat.

"I'll start cutting."

Rain's beside me again, quiet, unmoving.

"Our daughter is five years old," he says. "She was scared yesterday morning, and I thought it was school. I thought it was something we could fix."

He looks down at the man, eyes glowing like lightning behind a cloud.

"She's not with us now. So I need you to tell me exactly what your sister and Kora are planning."

The man sobs harder, nodding. "Okay—okay, I'll tell you—just please—please don't—"

He whimpers as I press the blade just under his chin.

"I'm listening," I say.

And finally—he starts to talk.

"Isha and Kora used to be best friends," her brother starts, voice trembling as he stares up at me. His wrists are still zip-tied, his nose crooked from Win's treatments, but it's the way he won't meet my eyes that grates.

I crouch lower, Rain standing beside me in his silent white, my storm-drenched mirror.

"Go on," I say, voice low. Controlled. Deadly.

He licks his lips. "Isha was in love with her. Always has been, I think. Even when Kora lied to her. Even when Kora married me, even though we both knew she didn't love me. I think Isha just... kept hoping."

"She married you?" Rain asks, disbelief etched into every syllable.

The man nods. "Yeah. For less than a year. It was—she said she needed a clean slate. Needed a reason to move on. But I think she was just trying to keep Isha in her life, one way or another. Or maybe trying to prove something."

"She's a fucking psychopath," I mutter.

"No argument here," he says bitterly. "Nobody knows why she does half the shit she does. But then... a few months ago, Kora reached out again. They hadn't talked in years. She said she wanted to see Isha. Said she had something to confess."

My chest goes tight.

Rain shifts beside me, his breath too quiet.

"I don't know what they discussed but Isha changed, she suddenly believed they would be together, have a family together."

Rain's breath hitches. I don't even blink. Because I know where this is going and I've never wanted to kill someone so methodically in my life.

"What?" Rain whispers.

Rain lets out a shaky breath, turning his face to the side like he's trying not to throw up.

"They're fucking insane," I whisper.

The man flinches. "I swear I didn't know they'd take her. I thought it was just a fantasy. I didn't know they'd do it."

I step forward. Slow. Measured.

"And now?" I ask. "Do you know where they are?"

He goes still. Pale.

"No," he says. "I don't."

I smile. Cold. Razor-edged.

"Then I don't need you anymore."

Because Kora is out there.

And she's got my daughter. Our daughter.

And that means no one is getting mercy from me.

...

I'm back in the house, in the middle of coordinating the search with Win, eyes burning from unshed tears, when my phone buzzes with a number I don't recognize.

I don't hesitate.

I pick up, press the speaker button.

The voice on the other end is smooth. Detached. Feminine.

"How important is your daughter to you?"

My blood ices over.

I glance around. Rain's not in the room—thank god. Saifah is. Win too.

Saifah looks up from his tablet, catching the shift in my face. I don't blink, don't breathe. I signal him with two fingers and a nod. Trace it. His hands are already moving.

I stare at nothing. My jaw tightens. "Kora."

"You should thank me. I went through the trouble of taking care of your daughter for the day. Quality time. Bonding, really. She's such a polite little thing. So trusting."

My hand clenches the phone tighter. "Where's Kaia?"

"Safe. For now."

Win freezes mid-step. I grip the edge of the desk and lean into the phone, my voice dropping to something dark and dangerous.

"Kora, I'm not going to play games with you. Where is my daughter?"

She laughs. A quiet, unhinged little sound. Not manic. Just off. Like she's enjoying this far too much.

"She's our daughter," Kora says, as if that claim holds any goddamn weight.

I clench my jaw so hard it clicks.

"I don't give a fuck about your delusions," I growl. "She's not yours."

Kora hums, soft and satisfied. "No, she's yours. That's the point."

Another pause. Then her tone shifts—mocking, cruel.

"Isha really thought this was about her. That poor idiot actually believed we were going to be a family. That I cared about her."

She laughs, low and mean.

"I don't even like her. I never did. I just needed her close enough to get to you. And she was so desperate for crumbs she handed me the key—our child."

The room tilts.

"You used her."

"Obviously. She's not very bright. She didn't betray you. She served her purpose."

I glance to Saifah. Thirty seconds.

"And now that I have Kaia, I can finally have what I've always wanted."

"What do you want?" I grind out.

"You."

The word slams into me like a bullet.

"You've built a life that should've been mine. Power. Legacy. Family. I watched you choose someone who doesn't even deserve you. I've waited long enough."

"You're insane."

"No. I'm in love."

"You don't even know what that means."

"I know it means getting rid of obstacles. I know it means claiming what's mine. And I know you'll come for her."

There's a pause. Breathing. I imagine her smiling, deluded and cruel, like this is a game.

"I want to talk to Rain," she says. "He's her papa, isn't he? I want him to know what it feels like...When he starts losing everything."

Saifah shoots me a look. We've got half a trace. I shake my head, buy time.

"You don't want to hear what Rain has to say to you," I murmur. "He's calmer than I am. More patient. That should scare you more."

Another soft chuckle.

"She's so beautiful," she murmurs. "Kaia. Her eyes remind me of you. But the rest... she's all me. Clever. Stubborn."

I see red.

Win steps forward. "We've almost got it."

"You don't fucking touch her," I hiss into the phone. "Don't breathe on her. Don't even look at her."

My voice is a razor. "If you've hurt her—"

"I haven't. I wouldn't. I love her."

"You don't even know her."

"I know she's afraid of bugs. I know she likes bubble tea. I know she wants to be an architect like her dada when she grows up."

My stomach twists. My chest aches.

And then—"You want her back?"

"I'll burn the world for her."

"Then here's your choice, Phayu: Rain dies."

The room tilts.

"You kill your husband, and I give you Kaia back. You, me, and our daughter—we can be a real family. Just the three of us."

I don't breathe.

"You say you'd burn the world. So do it. Burn him. Prove it. Who do you love more—Kaia, or Rain?"

Saifah's eyes dart up—ten seconds.

I clench the edge of the desk until my knuckles crack. "You think you understand love?"

"I understand obsession. That's enough."

I step closer to the speaker, voice low, deadly. "Kaia's not yours. She was never yours. And you don't get to ask me to destroy the only person I built my life around."

She laughs softly and then she hums. "We'll see about that. Tick, tock."

And the line goes dead.

The room explodes into motion—Saifah running coordinates, Win barking orders to the outer teams. I'm frozen for half a second.

Not until Saifah says, "We have her. Pinged a location just off Tha Kham."

I nod once; jaw locked.

Rain walks in then just in time to see the murder in my eyes.

"Phi?" he says softly, looking between us. "What happened? Did you talk to Kaia? Is she okay?"

I look him straight in the eye. "Kora just called me; I didn't hear Kaia's voice. Just Kora's."

Rain's eyes darken. His breath shudders out, but he doesn't cry. Not this time. He steps closer, his whole body wound tight like wire. "What did she say?"

I hesitate. Just for a second. And his voice cuts sharper.

"Phi—"

The words settle like ice between us.

"Kora doesn't want Kaia. She wants me"

His face twists—shock first, then fury, then something much distinct: fear."What?" he rasps. "Why? Do you—do you know her? From before Phi?"

I shake my head once. "No. I don't know her."

Rain stares at me like I've cracked something open he didn't know was breakable."And yet she's calling herself mama to our daughter."

I grit my teeth. "That's what doesn't make sense. I would never have let someone like that near Kaia. I keep control. Of everything. Everyone. I vet everyone who comes within a mile of her. If I had known her..."

I say nothing.

Rain looks up at me, eyes wet but steady. "Did she say anything else Phi?"

I swallow, jaw aching from how tight I'm holding it. "She said... she wants to take my life. My family. And to do that, she has to erase you. She wants to trade Kaia for your life, Rain."

The silence between us thickens like blood.

"She gave me a choice," I say hoarsely. "Kill you. Get Kaia back. Just me and her, and Kaia. A perfect little family."

Rain breathes out a bitter laugh. "She's delusional."

"She's obsessed."

"She's gonna die," he says softly. "She's going to die for touching my daughter Phi."

I press my forehead to his. "We're going to end this. And we're bringing Kaia home."

Rain closes his eyes, nods once. "Good."

And I swear to God, nothing and no one will survive until we do.

"I have loose ends to tie up Phi, Get all the information we need." And i see that look on his face.He wants blood.

...

A few minutes pass and I slam my palm on the table, hard enough that everyone in the room goes silent. "I want her history. Full. Every school she's worked at, every alias, every psychiatrist, every fuck-up she's ever had."

Saifah nods grimly, already typing.

"And tell me how the fuck we let a psychopath into my daughter's classroom."

Win flinches, but he doesn't lie. "She came in as a temp. Background checks didn't flag anything. Nothing stuck. On paper she was clean."

"So am I," I growl. "Doesn't mean I am not a threat."

No one says anything. They don't need to.

Because the truth is, this isn't just their mistake. It's mine too. I knew Isha was loyal, but I didn't know her heart. I didn't know her weakness.

I should've seen it. I should've...

"Phi," Rain's voice calls from behind me, low and raw.

I turn just in time to see him step out of the back room. His entire white outfit is soaked through—blood down to his elbows, spattered across his chest, even on his neck where it's drying rust brown.

He doesn't speak.

Just looks at me.

And in his eyes, I see the same thing I'm feeling.

Murder.

No mercy. No doubts. No escape.

Kora made a mistake taking our daughter. A bigger one thinking we'd spare her for it.

I stare at Rain, at the way he wipes his hands down with a towel that used to be white, now ruined. His fingers are still trembling from fury, not fear.

"She gave us war," he says flatly. "We end it."

And I nod, stepping toward him, gripping his shoulder.

"We bring Kaia home," I murmur. "And we ruin anyone who thought they could take her."

Rain stands there trembling for a beat, eyes glassy as he looks down at his ruined shirt, stained crimson like he was the one hurt. His voice cracks, barely audible.

"I—I need to change. When we go get Kaia, I don't want her to see all this blood on me."

My gaze travels over him. His white silk shirt is ruined, the collar stiff with blood, sleeves drenched, his hands streaked red to the wrist. And still, even now, he looks divine. Beautiful in a way that steals breath from my lungs.

But I know how he gets when he's like this. Still and calm. Kind and lethal.I nod. "I'll wait."

He disappears upstairs.

The room is quiet after he's gone. Everyone moves softer, quieter, like the wrath he left behind is still echoing in the walls.

I don't sit.

I just watch the stairs.

And then he comes back.

And the air changes.

All black. From boots to gloves. Guns strapped to his thighs. Knives glinting against the lining of his jacket. His blonde hair is slicked back, not a strand out of place. Not a speck of blood left on him. He looks taller somehow. Colder.

He's always in white.

Seeing him like this—like me—makes my breath catch.

It's jarring.

It's devastating.

It's war.

He walks straight to me and I don't say a word.

I reach out instead, cupping his jaw, tilting his face up. Our eyes lock. The same rage. The same promise.

"You ready?" I murmur.

He nods once. "Let's go get our daughter."

...

The building is deathly silent.

Too silent.

Even for an afternoon in Bangkok.

We fan out across the crumbling grounds, weapons drawn, steps light despite the fury in our blood. The gates had been unlocked, the surrpundingf security too easy to breach—like they wanted us to find this place. Like they wanted to buy time.

Rain is beside me, eyes cold and focused. He hasn't said a word since we left. Neither have I.

Inside the building, it's dust and decay. Long-abandoned. Stripped bare. No scent of Kaia. No warmth. Just cold stone and the echo of our boots on the floor.

Saifah reports in first: "Clear. No heat signatures. No sign of anyone here."

Win swears. "It's a fucking ghost site. They used it to bait us."

Rain turns to me, voice razor-thin. "Phi... this was to waste our time."

I nod once. Grim. My jaw clenched so hard it aches.

"She's playing with us," I say darkly. "Kora's not just sick. She's strategic."

Rain sways slightly and grips the wall. "What if—what if she moved her again? What if Kaia's not even in the city anymore?"

"No," I say firmly, stepping close, cupping the back of his neck. "We're going to find her. You hear me, Rain? We will find her."

Rain nods, shakily.

Saifah's voice comes through the comm. "There's something else. Basement. You're gonna want to see this."

I meet Rain's eyes.

Basement.

We both run.

The air grows colder as we descend the concrete steps into the basement—colder, darker, thicker.

Rain's hand is clenched around the railing, mine never leaves my gun. In front of us, Saifah and Win are already there, flashlights sweeping the room. And then I see it.

The basement isn't empty.

It's been used.

There's a  chair and table. I see some books on the table. Her favorite cartoon characters and crayons. A blanket too. Dropped haphazardly. Water bottles. Crumbs from crackers.

Rain lets out a choked sound beside me.

"She was here," he whispers, voice cracking. "She—Phi, she was here."

My throat tightens. I kneel, fingers ghosting over the edge of the blanket. There's a small drawing on the table under the books. A stick figure family. Two tall figures in black and white. A smaller one with curls. Labeled in her handwriting.

Dada, Papa, Me.

Rain kneels too, beside me now, trembling. "She's trying to stay brave."

I swallow the lump in my throat, pressing a hand to the concrete where her little feet must have touched. "But she's scared."

Saifah steps forward, holding something up. "Found a burner phone. They left just hours ago."

Win curses under his breath. "There's a camera—facing the door. Motion-sensor."

My blood freezes.

Kora's watching.

"She wanted us to see this," Rain says, standing slowly, voice ice-edged now. "She wanted us to find this. But not her."

"She's moving her again," I mutter. "She's two steps ahead."

Rain looks at me, eyes burning.

"Then we burn everything she thinks is safe. We make it impossible for her to hide."

And just like that, I see my angel turn into something else, something divine and deadly.

I press a kiss to his temple.

"She's still breathing, Rain. And every second that she is, she's coming back to us."

Rain doesn't cry. He just nods once.

And we rise.

Just as we're about to leave, Rain pauses.

"Did you hear that?" he says.

A low groan echoes through the empty corridor, muffled, pained.

We spin back around, weapons raised.

The sound comes again. Deeper in. Behind a rusted metal door.

Win kicks it open.

And there—slumped against the far wall—is Isha.

Blood pools around her. A knife lodged in her side. Her face is pale, her breaths shallow and ragged. She looks like she's been dragged through hell.

Rain's already running, falling to his knees beside her. I'm right behind him, covering the room, checking corners before crouching next to her, gun still in hand.

She blinks, eyes unfocused. But when they land on Rain—on me—she starts to cry.

"I'm sorry," she gasps. "I'm so—sorry."

Rain doesn't say a word. Just stares down at her with trembling lips.

"She—Kora," Isha chokes. "She lied to me. She told me—she told me she loved me. That we could be together. That—"

Her voice cracks. She coughs, blood on her lips now.

"I didn't know. I didn't know it would go this far. I never wanted to hurt her. I never—never wanted to take her from you. I swear. She's your daughter. I know that now."

Rain is shaking. Hands hovering, unsure where to touch.

"Where is she?" I ask tightly, my voice hard and cold. "Where is Kaia?"

"I don't know," Isha sobs. "She—she drugged me. Said I was a liability. I woke up here. I swear—I haven't seen Kaia since this morning. She said... she said she needed to take Kaia somewhere only you can find."

Rain looks at me. His eyes are red, wild, desperate.

Only I can find?

Fuck.

"Isha," Rain says, voice low and broken. "Do you remember anything else? Anything she said?"

Isha's body shakes as she fights to stay conscious. "She said... she said... if he loves the kid more, I'll prove it to him. That's what she kept saying."

My blood turns to ice.

She's going to make me choose.

Isha's voice cuts off with a wet gasp...and then nothing.

Rain grips her shoulders. "Isha—? Isha!"

But her head lolls. Chest still.

"No, no, no—fuck," Rain cries, shaking her gently. "Isha!"

I kneel beside them, fingers pressed to her throat. No pulse. Nothing.

I lower my hand slowly. "She's gone."

Rain doesn't move. Doesn't blink. His hands stay clenched around Isha's jacket, his mouth working, but no words come out.

I squeeze his shoulder. "Rain."

He finally looks up at me, and the devastation in his eyes guts me.

"She said... she needed me to see my real family," I repeat, voice like gravel. "Me and Kaia."

Rain's breathing hitches.

"She's trying to cut you out," I say. "She thinks if she gets rid of you, she gets me. And Kaia."

"She's insane," Rain whispers.

I nod. "And she's playing out a fantasy where I choose her. Where she gets the perfect family."

Rain swallows hard. "And she thinks hurting me—hurting Kaia—will make you love her?"

"No," I say, standing up. "She thinks hurting you is the only way to prove I already do."

Rain wipes at his face, stands shakily. "So where the fuck is she, Phi?"

I clench my jaw. Think fast. If she's after some twisted family fantasy, if she's trying to recreate a 'home'...

Kora's POV

The house smells of dust and old blood.

She breathes it in like perfume, eyes fluttering shut as her fingers trail along the peeling wallpaper. It used to be beautiful once, she imagines. Before time and fire and rage tore it apart. But under the dust and ruin, she can still see it—see him.

Phayu.

The boy whose memory was forged in this house. The man she loves, truly loves. Not like Rain, that delicate thing in white silk and gentle hands. Not like Isha, desperate and stupid, always begging for scraps.

They don't understand him. Not like she does.

Her fingers press against the old nursery door. It creaks open slowly, revealing a faint splash of pink in the center of the wreckage—Kaia's new room. Perfectly arranged. The bed. The toys.

Kora walks around the nusery. It's all going according to plan.

She touches the bed. Her smile is razor sharp.

"I told you I'd give you everything, Phayu," she whispers to the empty room. "A home. A daughter. A clean slate."

Rain had his turn. But Rain is soft. Rain gets in the way. And Kaia—sweet Kaia—is confused. Doesn't she see how unhappy she is, being dragged between two men? One too cold and one too soft?

She needed balance.

She needed her.

Kora steps to the mirror. Looks at herself.

"You'll come for her," she murmurs. "And when you do... you'll see."

A soft gasp echoes down the hall. Then tiny footsteps.

Kora's smile widens.

Right on time.

Kaia steps cautiously into the room, her little sneakers tracking soft prints onto the dusty floor. The hem of her dress brushes against her knees, and she's clutching her rabbit tightly against her chest—her voice soft, uncertain.

"Ms Kora?" she says, tilting her head. "When am I going home? Where's Isha? I miss Papa and Dada and Uncle Win and Fah Fah and—and—"

She starts listing all the names of the people who love her. The people who protect her. Her circle. Her pack.

And for a moment, Kora's jaw tics.

Still them. Always them.

...

I crouch down slowly to her level, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. She flinches just a little—not from fear, no, she's too polite, too good—but from unfamiliarity. And that makes my chest burn.

She looks so beautiful like this. Big brown eyes, soft cheeks, the trace of stubbornness in her jawline—like Phayu. All him.

I smile, carefully. "Kaia," I say gently, "don't call me Ms Kora anymore."

She blinks, confused. "Then... what do I call you?"

I reach out and take her small hand in mine. "Call me Mama."

She frowns. A soft, instinctive pull of her hand back. "But I already have a Papa and a Dada. I don't—"

I hold her hand tighter. Not hard. But firm. Teaching.

"I know, baby," I say, voice syrup-sweet. "But they're not here right now. I am. I'm your mama now. Doesn't that sound nice?"

Her lips tremble.

"No," she whispers, clutching her rabbit. "I want to go home."

I smile wider, almost sadly.

"Oh, Kaia. You will. When your dada finally chooses what kind of family he wants."

I smooth my hand over her hair and hum to her softly, even as she starts to cry.

Phayu's POV

We stand in the dead house, the scent of mold and blood thick in the air. The walls are hollowed out, the floor beneath us warped from water damage. This place used to be something—maybe a home. Now it's just ruin. Fitting.

I can feel Rain's weight at my side even though he hasn't touched me. He hasn't touched me since we found Isha. I deserve that silence.

Win's phone buzzes. We all freeze.

He looks down, frowns, then picks up. "Unknown number." His voice goes flat. "Kaia?"

He immediately switches to loudspeaker.

And then...A breath.A pause.Then her voice.

"Uncle Win?"