From the rooftop across the street, Neil lounged like a panther who'd been forced into idleness—lean, deceptively relaxed, dark hair slicked back against the sharp angular lines of his face. His smile, even when at rest, held a taunt.
A threat and a promise.
Below him, the orphanage gate stood sturdy and dignified, painted in hopeful blues that had long ago surrendered to rust. Children played, laughed—small lives sheltered temporarily from the city's fangs.
He exhaled, slow and bored. Babysitting a crippled child.
Moraine's orders still echoed sharply in his mind.
Do not approach Jordan when he's alone. Do not touch the boy. Wait. Watch. Only move when he moves.
Neil had never questioned orders before—not out of fear, but because Moraine rarely made mistakes. But this time? He'd needed answers. So he went to the one who had them all.
Diana, irritated and tight-lipped, finally relented only when pressed harder than was gentlemanly.
A love-hate history. A past drenched in blood, betrayal, and longing so sharp it bordered on obsession. Neil scoffed softly now, eyes narrowing on the street.
Love? Where?
Jordan had scarred Moraine—literally and figuratively—and Neil thought any sensible man would have torn the little traitor to pieces. Neil should have been the one there that night. If he had, no one would've ever dared to lay a hand on Moraine—
The slick smile faltered for a moment. Because despite the rage, the betrayal, Moraine still wanted Jordan unharmed. Protected.
It was baffling and irritating. A weakness Neil could taste like bitterness on his tongue. A flicker of movement caught his attention. And there—rolling through the orphanage gate—was the boy.
Kael.
Small shoulders squared, chin up, refusing the world's pity even as wheels carried him where legs could not. A quiet fortitude that, for a very brief moment, tugged unexpectedly at something in Neil's chest.
But the moment shattered instantly when Jordan appeared.
Hands shoved in pockets, feigning nonchalance. Blonde hair pushed back from those piercing blue eyes—eyes that looked innocent like a doe. Who knew a face so angelic could harbor intentions so vicious. He strode toward Kael with a grin that cracked open all the guarded pieces of him.
Kael lit up. Completely. Like his brother's presence switched on the universe.
Jordan crouched, ruffling the boy's damp hair—confusion flickering as he noticed the fresh clothes and traces of water—but he didn't ask. Instead, Kael launched himself into Jordan's arms, laughter bubbling free like it had been waiting only for this moment.
"What's with the surprises, Jordi? You could have Mrs. Wells call me and I would have - "
"Walked out of a shower in gym clothes in the middle of the day?" Jordan asked, laughing. "You managed that just fine."
Laughing with his brother now made the afternoon tiff suddenly seem so ridiculous to Kael. He turned to Natalie.
"That's all thanks to her. She warned me just in time or I would have embarrassed myself in front of a beauty." He remarked with a beaming smile and Jordan playfully pulled at his ears. This was an inside joke that all three of them shared. One that was curated by Askai when he was foxed out of his wits.
"Someone unlearned all their manners." He faked a frown, folding in a few lines on his forehead.
"Someone never learned them at all." Kael called out, gently prying away his hands. Despite what he had been told, he sneaked a peek around Jordan, hoping to see Askai.
Jordan saw the disappointment in his eyes and he thought about the cruel decision he had made moments ago in front of Veronica. Kael didn't deserve all of this shit. He deserved brothers much better than them. Ones that would fight to stay with him and not to pawn him off to any kind soul, hoping they would do for him what they couldn't.
Jordan lifted him easily, holding him close—protective, gentle… carrying him to the car as he pulled out chocolates for the them. He buckled in Kael and waved their goodbyes.
Laughter filled the street but something sharp and ugly curled inside Neil. The bastard was busy playing family while Moraine grieved for his.
He flipped open the wireless receiver, voice calm and emotionless—masking the silent fury coiled beneath.
"Target locked," he murmured. "We move when they move. Only on the road. No one makes a move inside the compound. Middle Nolan…" he paused, gaze sweeping the orphanage grounds,
"…still are neutral grounds."
Static crackled on the line.
Neil leaned forward, watching the brothers exit the gate—the picture of devotion and safety they didn't yet know would soon be shattered.
A smirk crept back—cold and cutting.
"Let the chase begin."