Kieran's POV
"Mama, I can't breathe."
Storm's small hand squeezed mine so tight it hurt. My four-year-old son's gray eyes were wide with panic as the private plane shook through another pocket of turbulence. On my other side, his twin sister Sage pressed her face against my arm, trying not to cry.
"It's okay, baby. Just a little bump." I kept my voice calm even though my heart was racing. The plane dropped again, and my stomach lurched. "Remember what Papa Darius taught you? Deep breaths. In through your nose, out through your mouth."
Storm copied me, his little chest rising and falling. Sage peeked up at me, her honey-colored eyes—my eyes—still wet with tears. "When will it stop shaking?"
"Soon, sweetheart. Very soon."
I hoped I wasn't lying. The pilot had warned us about rough weather, but knowing didn't make it easier. My free hand went to my chest, pressing against the dull ache that never fully went away. The mate bond. Five years broken, and it still hurt like a fresh wound.
Don't think about him. Don't think about Ashton.
But coming back to Crescent City made it impossible not to remember. This was his city. His territory. The place where he'd stood in front of everyone we knew and called me a mistake.
"Mama, you're making that sad face again." Storm was watching me with those too-smart eyes. He looked so much like his father it sometimes hurt to look at him. The same sharp features, the same serious expression. "Are you scared of the plane too?"
"No, baby. Mama's just tired." I smiled and kissed his forehead. "We've been traveling for hours."
"Then why are we going back?" Sage asked, her voice small. "You said Crescent City made you sad. You said we'd never go back."
My chest tightened. My daughter was right. I'd promised myself I'd never return to this city, never risk running into the Alpha who'd destroyed me. But life didn't care about promises.
"Grandpa Theron is sick," I explained softly. "He needs us. And Papa Darius has important business meetings here. We're family. Family shows up when it matters."
"Even when it's scary?" Storm asked.
"Especially when it's scary."
The plane finally steadied, and the seatbelt sign dinged off. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. Through the window, I could see Crescent City sprawling below us—all gleaming skyscrapers and old money mansions. Somewhere down there, Ashton Cross was probably in his fancy office, living his perfect life. He'd probably forgotten all about the Omega he'd humiliated. Probably never thought about the mate bond he'd thrown away like trash.
Good. That's what I wanted. To be forgotten. To be invisible.
The plane touched down smoothly, and the twins cheered. I unbuckled them and gathered our carry-on bags, my hands shaking slightly. Get it together, Kieran. You're not that broken boy anymore. You're the CEO of Vale Pharmaceuticals. You're the secret heir to one of the most powerful Omega families in the country. You're strong now.
But I didn't feel strong. I felt like I was twenty-two again, standing in that ballroom while my entire world collapsed.
"Come on, my loves." I took both their hands as we walked toward the exit. "Stay close to Mama, okay? Airports are busy."
"Will Papa meet us?" Sage asked hopefully.
"He's getting our luggage. We'll see him in a few minutes."
We stepped into the arrivals terminal, and the noise hit us immediately. Hundreds of people rushing in every direction, dragging suitcases, shouting greetings, holding welcome signs. The smell of coffee and anxiety filled the air. Storm pressed closer to my side.
Then I felt it. A sharp, stabbing pain in my chest that made me gasp. The mate bond, suddenly alive and screaming. Which meant—
No. No, no, no.
"Mama?" Sage tugged my hand. "What's wrong?"
I couldn't answer. My eyes were scanning the crowd frantically, looking for the one face I'd prayed I'd never see again. This couldn't be happening. Ashton couldn't be here. The airport was huge. The odds of running into him were—
"KIERAN!"
His voice cut through the noise like a knife. Deep and familiar and full of desperate hope. My whole body went cold.
Storm looked up at me, confused. "Mama, who's calling you?"
I couldn't move. Couldn't think. And then the crowd parted, and there he was.
Ashton Cross stood twenty feet away, looking like death. He'd lost weight. His expensive suit hung loose on his frame. Dark circles shadowed his steel-gray eyes—eyes that were currently locked on me with an intensity that made my knees weak. In his hands, he held a massive bouquet of white roses. Next to him was a huge banner that read "Welcome Home, My Omega" in gold letters.
My brain short-circuited. This wasn't real. This couldn't be real.
"Kieran." He took a step forward, and I automatically stepped back, pulling the twins behind me. "Please. I just want to talk."
"No." The word came out as a whisper. I tried again, louder. "Stay away from us."
But Ashton wasn't looking at me anymore. His gaze had dropped to the children partially hidden behind my legs. His face went absolutely white.
"You have..." His voice cracked. "Are those... children?"
Storm peeked around my side, curious despite my grip on his hand. The moment Ashton saw his face, the Alpha made a sound like he'd been punched. Because Storm had his eyes. Everyone always said Storm looked exactly like me, but that was a lie I told myself. My son had his father's eyes, his father's face, his father's serious expression.
And Ashton could see it too.
"How old are they?" Ashton's hands were shaking, roses trembling. "Kieran, how old—"
"Mama, I don't like this." Sage started crying. "Who is that man? Why is he looking at us like that?"
The mate bond burned in my chest, painful and wrong. Ashton took another step closer, and I could smell him—cedar and rain and Alpha musk. The same scent that used to make me feel safe. Now it just made me feel sick.
"Four years old." Ashton's voice was barely audible. He'd done the math. His eyes went from the twins to me, filling with something that looked like horror. "Kieran, were you... when I ended things, were you pregnant?"
The airport noise faded to nothing. In that moment, it was just us—the Alpha who'd destroyed me and the Omega holding the children he'd never known existed.
I opened my mouth to tell him to go to hell. To grab my babies and run. To lie and say these weren't his kids.
But before I could speak, Storm said in his clear, innocent voice: "Mama, why does that man smell like me?"
And Ashton Cross dropped the roses.
They scattered across the airport floor like broken promises as the Alpha who'd once called me a mistake stared at the son he never knew he had—the son whose gray eyes were a perfect mirror of his own.
The son who was looking up at me with confusion and asking the question that was about to destroy the safe life I'd built: "Mama, is that my daddy?"