(Austin Chen's POV)
I didn't wait for the car to stop.
The moment we turned into the private driveway of the estate, I was already out the door.
The guards flinched when they saw my face.
I stormed through the front hall—boots echoing off marble, tie loose, blood still on my cuffs from earlier deals I hadn't finished—and the world went quiet the moment I saw her.
Ava.
My baby girl was curled up on the couch, knees to chest, wearing one of my oversized hoodies. Her hair—so long, so thick, so hers—poured over her shoulders like a silken blanket. She had a bandage on her elbow.
And she was smiling.
Too brightly.
Too forced.
"Dada!" she chirped, lifting her hand in a little wave. "I'm fine, see?"
I didn't speak.
I couldn't.
My fists clenched as I looked at her elbow. The cut wasn't deep, but it was there. On her. My baby.
I'd burned empires for less.
She slid off the couch, wincing just barely—just enough for me to see it—and padded over, bare feet against the cool marble. "Kai was being dramatic. It's just a tiny scrape. Like, micro-tiny."
She tugged at my sleeve.
I caught her wrist. Gently.
Turned her hand over.
There was a faint bruise on her palm.
She froze.
"…Dada," she whispered.
"Who did this."
Her lip trembled. "I said I'm fine—"
"Ava."
Her smile cracked. "I didn't want you to worry."
I dropped to one knee.
Held her face in both hands.
She looked so small. So brave. And still so full of sunshine even when she was hurting. The world didn't deserve her. I didn't deserve her.
But God help whoever thought they could touch her.
"I will find them," I said, voice low, shaking. "And I will make sure they never remember their own names."
She bit her lip. Then whispered, "I just wanted you to hug me."
That broke something inside me.
I pulled her into my chest.
She clung to me like the world was ending. Her fingers fisted into my shirt. Her breath was warm against my neck. And as she melted into my arms, whispering "I was scared," over and over again, I realized…
No amount of blood or empire or steel could ever protect her like this could.
Just me. Holding her.
Safe.
Home.