Chapter 23
CASSIAN
Two days. I give myself two days to cool down before I do something I can’t take back.
It doesn’t work. The rage sits in my chest like a living thing, burning hotter every time I think about those photos. My sons. Five years old. Dark hair, green eyes, and faces that look like mine did at that age.
Finn and Liam.
The boys I met in Ballycotton a year ago. I played with them for ten minutes near the harbor. They kicked a ball around, laughed when I pretended to miss, and told me their names with that easy trust children have before the world teaches them better.
I remember thinking they were sweet kids. Well-behaved. The nannies watching them seemed fond of them, kept saying things in Irish that made the boys giggle.
I didn’t know.
I talked to my sons, and I didn’t know.
That’s what Aurelia stole from me. Not just five years of their lives, but the chance to recognize them. To feel that connection fathers are supposed to feel when they see their children for the first time.
She took everything.
Declan walks into my office without knocking on the second day. He takes one look at my face and stops in the doorway. “You’re planning something.”
“Yes.”
“Don’t.”
“Too late.”
He closes the door behind him and sits down across from my desk. “Taking the children from the Vances will start a war. You understand that, right? Julian will come after you with everything he has. Other families will get involved. This could destabilize the entire city.”
“Let it. They’re my sons.” I lean forward, hands flat on the desk. “She kept them from me for five years. Let me search and grieve while she raised them in secret. In my village, Declan. She hid them in the place I go to visit my mother.”
“I understand you’re angry—”
“I’m past angry. I met them. A year ago. I talked to them, played with them, and then I left. Do you know what that feels like? To realize you spent ten minutes with your children and didn’t recognize them?”
Declan’s quiet for a moment. “What’s the plan?”
“The school. Public place, lots of witnesses. Julian can’t have heavy security without drawing attention from other parents.”
“He’ll have some security.”
“Not enough.”
“And if you’re wrong?”
“Then we adjust on the ground.”
He runs a hand through his hair. “You grab those kids, and everything changes. The truce we have with the Vances, the business partnerships Julian’s been building, all of it goes to hell. You’ll lose allies. Other families will have to choose sides.”
“I don’t care.”
“You should. This affects more than just you.”
“Those boys are growing up without their father because Aurelia decided I didn’t deserve to know them. How long am I supposed to wait? Another five years? Ten? Until they’re adults and it’s too late?”
“You could negotiate—”
“She had her chance. She chose to lie.”
Declan stands up. “When?”
“Tomorrow morning. School drop-off is between seven forty-five and eight.”
“That’s not enough time to prepare—”
“It’s plenty of time. Get me people who can move fast and stay controlled. I want this done clean.”
“Define clean.”
“Minimal violence. The boys are five years old. I don’t want them traumatized.”
“You’re taking them from their mother by force. They’re going to be traumatized no matter how gentle you are.”
The words hit harder than I want to admit. But it doesn’t change anything.
“Get the team,” I say. “We move tomorrow.”
He leaves without another word.
I spend the rest of the afternoon reviewing what we know about the school.
Dalton Academy. Upper Manhattan. Private, expensive.
The tuition alone could fund a small operation for a year.
Security is present but subtle. Can’t have armed guards at the gates without shattering the illusion that these kids live in a safe world.
Parents pay premium prices to pretend their children aren’t targets.
Marcus handles the reconnaissance. He’s one of my best people, former military, who knows how to gather intelligence without being noticed. He comes back at six with photos and a detailed report.
“Morning drop-off happens in a thirty-minute window,” he says, spreading the photos across my desk. “Most families arrive between seven forty-five and eight fifteen. Parents park in the circular driveway, walk their kids to the entrance, and say goodbye at the door. Teachers take over from there.”
“Security presence?”
“Two visible guards. Both Vance people based on the way they move. Professional, alert, but they stay back. Don’t crowd the children or make the other parents nervous.”
“Just two?”
“That we saw. Could be more in unmarked vehicles nearby, but they’re keeping it low-key.”
I study the photos. The school entrance, the driveway, and the short path from curb to door. Maybe thirty feet of exposure. “What’s the timing from when they arrive to when they’re inside?”
“Sixty to ninety seconds, depending on how fast the kids move. Some of them drag their feet, don’t want to go in. Teachers usually come out to help move things along.”
“And if we hit them during that window?”
Marcus hesitates. “It’s doable. But you’d need two vehicles minimum. One to block Vance security, one for the actual extraction. You’re looking at maybe forty-five seconds before backup arrives or someone calls the police.”
“Can we get them out in forty-five seconds?”
“If everything goes perfectly. But nothing ever goes perfectly.”
“So we plan for complications.”
“What kind of complications?”
“More security than expected. The mother showing up. Teachers interfering. I want contingencies for all of it.”
Marcus nods. “You’re going to need at least eight people. Four for the extraction team, four for backup and blocking.”
“Get them. The best people we have. Professionals who can stay calm under pressure.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow morning. Eight a.m.”
His eyebrows raise. “That’s—”
“Not enough time. I know. Make it work anyway.”
He leaves, and I sit there alone with the photos.
Finn and Liam. Walking into that school every morning holding Nadia’s hands. Backpacks on, uniforms neat, no idea their father exists and wants to know them.
That ends tomorrow.
It’s midnight, and the team assembles at my office.
Eight men total. Marcus and three others for the extraction. Declan and three more for backup and blocking. All of them have worked for me for years. They’re loyal, skilled, and they don’t ask questions they don’t need answered.
I spread the school photos across the conference table.
“This is a child extraction,” I say. “Two boys, five years old, twins. They’ll be arriving at the school tomorrow morning around eight. We’re taking them during the walk from the car to the building entrance.”
“Who are they?” one of the guys asks.
“Mine.”
That’s all the explanation they need.
Marcus walks them through the plan. “Two vehicles. First one blocks Vance’s security, second one grabs the kids. Extraction team moves fast, gets them in the vehicle, drives out immediately. Backup team covers the exit and handles any complications.”
“What about the kids?” another guy asks. “They’re going to scream.”
“Handle them carefully,” I say. “No violence unless absolutely necessary. They’re children. I don’t want them hurt.”
“And if they fight us?”
“They’re five. You can restrain them without hurting them.”
“What about the adults? The mother?”
“She won’t be there. Julian’s wife does the morning drop-offs.”
“And if she shows up anyway?”
“You still take the boys. I’ll deal with the mother.”
“What about witnesses?” someone else asks. “There’s going to be other parents around.”
“Let them see. By the time they realize what’s happening and call the police, we’ll be gone.”
Marcus points to the photos. “Timing is critical. We hit them right here, halfway between the car and the entrance. Vance security will be behind them, and teachers will be ahead. We have maybe ten seconds before people start reacting.”
“What if there’s more security than we counted?”
“Then, the backup team engages them while the extraction team completes the grab. If things go completely sideways, we abort and regroup,” I say. “But we don’t abort unless I give the order. Understood?”
They all nod, and we spend another hour going over details, and I go home at three in the morning.
The apartment is dark and quiet. I don’t bother turning on lights, just walk to the bedroom and lie down fully dressed.
Sleep doesn’t come, but it doesn’t matter.
I’m getting my sons back.
Whether Aurelia likes it or not.