Chapter 192 — Ian Gets Dragged Back
"Found him."
The man sitting by the van door spoke to the others inside.
A moment later, three men got out.
One came up behind Ian and locked him in a chokehold.
Another stood off to the side, glaring at passersby, silently warning them not to interfere.
The third joined the first, and together they hauled Ian toward the van.
"Fuck! Who are you?! Let me go! Holy shit!"
Ian panicked instantly.
He grabbed at the man's shoulders, struggling desperately.
But the difference in size and strength was obvious.
Sure, Ian had been saving up to attend ROTC training—
But if he'd actually learned anything useful, he wouldn't have needed Carl and Kelly to teach him basic self-defense later on.
So within seconds—
He was overpowered and dragged into the van.
Once he was inside, the lookout scanned the street one last time, shot a warning look at anyone nearby—
Then climbed in and slammed the door shut.
Bang.
The van sped off.
"Fuck! Let me go! Who the hell are you people?!"
Ian was terrified now—on the verge of losing control.
He wasn't nearly as tough as he imagined himself to be.
At the end of the day—
He was still just a kid.
"Shut the fuck up, fool."
One of the men shot him an annoyed glance, offering no explanation.
The silence made it worse.
Ian's fear only grew.
Thankfully, without his bipolar instability spiraling, he didn't break down completely—
But he sat there trembling, eyes darting around at the men surrounding him.
About half an hour later—
The van stopped.
The man by the door got out first, then the others dragged Ian out after him.
By now, Ian was too scared to resist.
He just stumbled along as they pulled him forward.
Then he looked around—
And froze.
This place… felt familiar.
"Where… is this?"
"This is your home, boy. You alright?"
A woman's voice, thick with a Russian accent, answered him.
Ian looked up—
And saw a woman he didn't recognize.
"Get up. Your sister's waiting for you at the shop."
She pointed toward the nearby South Side diner.
These men?
She had arranged them.
Ian followed her gesture and finally recognized the place.
But then—
"I'm not going."
He shook his head.
Even though he didn't know who she was, if Fiona had anything to do with this—
He wasn't afraid anymore.
He refused outright.
Seeing his stubborn expression, the woman sighed.
"Just like the boss said…"
Then she turned to the men.
"Take him in. And don't hurt him."
With that, she walked back toward the base, no longer paying him any attention.
The men turned their attention back to Ian, their expressions hard.
"What are you doing—fuck! Let me go!"
He struggled again—
Pointlessly.
No one was coming to help.
Inside the South Side diner—
William sat quietly at a table.
A box of donuts.
A cup of milk tea.
He simply watched.
Didn't interfere.
Didn't react.
Just observed.
Moments later—
Ian was dragged into the diner.
"Hey! Let him go!"
The moment Fiona saw him being forced in, her protective instincts kicked in.
She rushed forward without hesitation, ignoring the difference in size.
William hadn't told her about this.
She had no idea what was happening.
"He's yours."
The men didn't argue.
They simply shoved Ian toward her—
Then turned and left.
Both Fiona and Ian were left confused.
Fiona quickly grabbed him, checking him over anxiously.
"Ian! Are you okay?"
Seeing how worried Fiona looked, Ian didn't react the way most people would.
No relief.
No softening.
No reconciliation.
Instead, he shook her hand off.
"I don't need your concern."
Then he turned and started walking toward the door.
Now that he had money in his pocket, he felt untouchable.
Like the world was suddenly his.
In his mind, he didn't need Fiona anymore.
Those rich men at the clubs?
He could just lift a few wallets and live comfortably for a long time.
As for a place to sleep?
Luxury hotels were basically his home now.
He was already sliding toward something dangerous—
But Fiona had no idea what he'd gone through.
Still, remembering William's advice—that the kids were immature, not thinking straight—
She hurried after him and grabbed his arm.
"Ian… I was wrong. I was wrong that day. Please—don't go."
Ian stopped.
Turned back.
Looked at her like she'd just said something impossible.
This?
This was Fiona?
"Don't go," she repeated, gripping him tighter.
Ian hesitated.
"…What about military school?"
Her expression tightened for a split second—
Then she nodded.
"If you can get in, I won't stop you."
That line—
Wasn't entirely hers.
William had already broken it down for her.
The odds of Ian actually getting into a place like United States Military Academy at West Point were practically zero.
So whether Ian went or not—
Wasn't even something Fiona truly controlled.
Just like Lip thinking he could support Sniqua and a baby—
Some things weren't decided by willpower alone.
"…Really?" Ian asked, still unsure.
"Really."
Fiona tightened her grip on his hand, afraid he might slip away again.
Meanwhile—
At 2119.
Down in the basement, Peggy and Carl were surrounded by bottles and containers.
It looked less like a lesson—
And more like something out of a chemistry nightmare.
"Once we finish this step, we just wait. It'll crystallize on its own."
Peggy patted Carl's head.
"Got it?"
After settling her affairs and setting aside money for her sons, there was only one regret left—
No one to inherit her "craft."
So she had dragged Carl into this, determined to pass it on.
The others wouldn't fall for it.
Only Carl—
Simple enough to listen.
Peggy looked at his blank expression and sighed.
"…Well. We've still got time."
Maybe she should've picked someone else.
But before she could think it through—
Carl, curious, picked up a nearby bottle.
By the time Peggy noticed—
It was already too late.
"No! Don't touch that—!"
BOOM.
A deafening explosion ripped through the basement.
Thick, yellow smoke—sharp and choking—poured upward.
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