A day before the chaos at the Caldwell home
The penthouse air turned thick, the kind of silence that came right before violence.
Jaden's back pressed harder against the door, his good hand flat against the wood as if he could push through it by sheer will. His ruined hand hung limp, throbbing in time with his racing pulse. The two men blocking his path didn't move, didn't speak just stood there like statues.
Keenan took one slow step forward, then another, hands loose at his sides. The smirk was gone. In its place was something colder, more dangerous, something vile and sinister.
"You think you're noble," Keenan said softly, almost conversational. "Turning me down. Protecting her." He tilted his head. "But you're not protecting her, Jaden. You're just delaying the inevitable."
Jaden's voice came out rough. "She doesn't need protection from me. She needs it from you."
Keenan chuckled, amused. "You still think you're the good guy in this story." He stopped a few feet away, close enough that Jaden could see the flecks of gold in his otherwise cold eyes. "You grabbed her arm that day. After she'd already made it clear she wasn't yours. You forced the issue. And when Knight warned you, whispered exactly what would happen if you touched her again, you swung anyway."
Jaden's throat worked, but he didn't deny it.
"That nail wasn't an accident," Keenan continued, calm as ever "Knight moved so you'd hit the wall. He planned it. One swing, one consequence. And you gave him the excuse on a silver platter."
Jaden's good fist clenched tighter, nails biting into his palm. "You're saying I deserved…"
"I'm saying you're not innocent," Keenan cut in smoothly. "You wanted what wasn't yours. You pushed. And now you're paying the price. But here's the difference between you and me, little brother, I don't pay for my mistakes. I make other people pay for them."
He took one final step, close enough that Jaden had to tilt his head up slightly to meet his gaze.
"Last chance," Keenan repeated, softer now. "Help me. Be useful. Or become another body I have to dispose of tonight."
Jaden's chest rose and fell fast. Sweat beaded at his temple. He glanced at the two men, unmovable, expressionless then back to Keenan.
For a heartbeat, something flickered in his eyes. Doubt. Temptation. The ghost of what could have been if Genesis had chosen him.
Then it hardened into resolve.
"I'd rather die than let you near her."
Keenan studied him for a long moment, as if genuinely weighing the words.
Then he sighed, almost disappointed and turned away.
"Fine."
He nodded once to the men.
The first one moved fast, grabbing Jaden's good arm and twisting it behind his back. Jaden grunted, struggling, but the second man was already there, clamping a hand over his mouth, muffling the shout before it could fully form.
Keenan didn't watch.
He walked to the bar, poured himself a drink, and took a slow sip as the sounds of the brief struggle filled the room, grunts, a muffled cry, the thud of a body hitting the floor.
When it went quiet, he turned back.
Jaden was on his knees now, one man holding his arms pinned, the other pressing a knee between his shoulder blades. His bandaged hand twitched uselessly against the carpet.
Keenan then walked over to him, a glass of Bourbon in his hand and crouched in front of him, drink in hand.
"You know," he said, "I actually liked the idea of you being useful. Bishop's own brother inside Knight's walls. Poetic. But…" He shrugged. "You're too stupid to see the gift I was offering."
Jaden glared up at him, chest heaving, blood trickling from a split lip.
Keenan leaned closer.
"Any last words, little brother?"
Jaden spat blood onto the carpet, inches from Keenan's polished shoes.
"Go to hell."
Keenan smiled, small, genuine, almost fond.
"Already there."
He stood, nodding to the men.
"Basement. Make it slow. I want him to feel every second of what he threw away."
The men hauled Jaden up. He didn't scream. Didn't beg.
Just stared at Keenan with pure, burning hate as they dragged him toward the private elevator.
Keenan watched the doors close.
Then he finished his drink, set the glass down, and pulled out his phone.
Text to an unknown number:
Change of plans. The boy's out. Move to phase two.
He hit send.
Somewhere across the city, Knight's phone buzzed sharply on counters, cutting through the warmth.
He glanced at the screen…"How'd you like my package?" and in that exact instant, gunshots erupted outside, sharp cracks that shattered the night. Knight's eyes widened, his stomach plummeting as ice flooded his veins.
"What's happening?" Genesis bolted to his side, her face draining of color.
"Do not move. Stay right here," he ordered, voice low and urgent. He pulled away and sprinted to the locked cabinet beneath the kitchen counter. Chaos exploded around them, shouts echoing through the halls, boots thundering as the Angels in the house surged toward the danger.
Knight's fingers trembled for a split second as he punched in the code. He yanked open the door and pulled out two pistols, ignoring the fact that Daisy was watching wide-eyed from Genesis's arms. Safety could wait; their lives couldn't.
"Kieran!" Genesis called, her voice cracking with fear.
He spun back to her, closing the distance in two strides. "Do not leave this room," he repeated fiercely, pressing one gun into her shaking hand. She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. "You still remember how to shoot, right?"
She shook her head, clutching Daisy tightly on her hip. The little girl's eyes glistened with tears, her small face buried against her mother's neck. "Please don't leave us," Genesis whispered.
"I have to. My people are out there." She started to argue, but he leaned in swiftly, pressing a hard, desperate kiss to her forehead.
"Munchkin," he murmured softly to Daisy. She lifted her head, trembling.
"I'm scared."
"Shh, don't be. You'll be fine," he promised, brushing a gentle kiss across her forehead. Then he was gone, racing out the door.
Just as he vanished, two Angels, Katherine and Joy burst into the kitchen, guns drawn and steady.
"Protect them," Knight barked.
They nodded without hesitation, stepping inside and slamming the door shut behind them.
Knight charged toward the living room, heart hammering, gun raised, only for the front door to burst open with a violent shove.
Mia stumbled through, blood streaming down her side and arms, cradling Cady bridal-style. Tears carved clean tracks through the grime and red on her cheeks.
Her gaze locked on Knight for one desperate second before her legs gave out. She collapsed to her knees, Cady's limp body slipping dangerously in her weakening grip.
"Knight," Mia sobbed, voice breaking.
Knight dropped to his knees beside them in an instant, the pistol clattering forgotten to the floor. His eyes fluttered shut as raw pain twisted his features, one hand reaching out to steady Cady's body while the other hovered, afraid to touch, afraid to confirm the worst.
Damon and the other men poured in behind Mia, weapons still hot, faces grim but all Knight could see was the blood, the stillness, and the shattering of everything he'd fought to protect.